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MYSTERY  RANCH 


MYSTERY  RANCH 


BY 
ARTHUR  CHAPMAN 

AUTHOR  OP  **  OUT  WHERE  THE  WEST  BEGINS,"  AND  "  CACTUS 

CENTER  " 


■    >      > 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

*-     1921 


(J 


COPYRIGHT,  1921,  BT  DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  CO. 

COPYRIGHT,   1921,   BY  ARTHUR   CHAPMAN 

ALL  RIGHTS   RESERVED 


•      ■         •     •      <      t  « 


;  :  , , ; 


MYSTERY  RANCH 


4C9188 


MYSTERY  RANCH 


CHAPTER  I 

There  was  a  swift  padding  of  moccasined 
feet  through  the  hall  leading  to  the  Indian 
agent's  office. 

Ordinarily  Walter  Lowell  would  not  have 
looked  up  from  his  desk.  He  recognized  the 
footfalls  of  Plenty  Buffalo,  his  chief  of  In- 
dian police,  but  this  time  there  was  an  ab- 
sence of  the  customary  leisureliness  in  the 
official's  stride.  The  agent's  eyes  were  ques- 
tioning Plenty  Buffalo  before  the  police  chief 
had  more  than  entered  the  doorway. 

The  Indian,  a  broad-shouldered,  power- 
fully built  man  in  a  blue  uniform,  stopped 
at  the  agent's  desk  and  saluted.  Lowell 
knew  better  than  to  ask  him  a  question  at 
the  outset.  News  speeds  best  without  urg- 
ing when  an  Indian  tells  it.  The  clerk  who 
acted  as  interpreter  dropped  his  papers  and 


'   \   •  • 

<     .      f      # 


'  '  •':  '•.  '■'   '•  ,*  \ 


4 .  Mystery  ranch 

: •  ( ,•  ■ :  :     :  •'/   ,  ,■ 
moved  nearer,  listening  intently  as  Plenty 

Buffalo  spoke  rapidly  in  his  tribal  tongue. 

"A  man  has  been  murdered  on  the  road 
just  off  the  reservation,"  announced  the  in- 
terpreter. 

Still  the  agent  did  not  speak. 
'I  just  found  him,"  went  on  the  police 
chief  to  the  clerk,  who  interpreted  rapidly. 
"You'd  better  come  and  look  things  over.,: 

"How  do  you  know  he  was  murdered?' 
asked  the  agent,  reaching  for  his  desk  tele- 
phone. 

"He  was  shot." 

"But  could  n't  he  have  shot  himself?" 
,    "No.   He's  staked  down." 

Lowell  straightened  up  suddenly,  a  tin- 
gle of  apprehension  running  through  him. 
Staked  down  —  and  on  the  edge  of  f the 
Indian  reservation!  Matters  were  being 
brought  close  home. 

"Is  there  anything  to  tell  who  he  is?' 

"I  did  n't  look  around  much,"  said  Plenty 
Buffalo.  "There's  an  auto  in  the  road. 
That's  what  I  saw  first." 

"Where  is  the  body?" 


MYSTERY  RANCH  5 

"A  few  yards  from  the  auto,  on  the 
prairie." 

The  agent  called  the  sheriff's  office  at 
White  Lodge,  the  adjoining  county  seat. 
The  sheriff  was  out,  but  Lowell  left  the  nec- 
essary information  as  to  the  location  of  the 
automobile  and  the  body.  Then  he  put  on 
his  hat,  and,  gathering  up  his  gloves,  mo- 
tioned to  Plenty  Buffalo  and  the  interpre- 
ter to  follow  him  to  his  automobile  which 
was  'standing  in  front  of  the  agency  office. 
Plenty  Buffalo's  pony  was  left  at  the 
hitching-rack,  to  recover  from  the  hard 
run  it  had  just  been  given.  The  wooden- 
handled  quirt  at  the  saddle  had  not  been 
spared  by  the  Indian. 

Flooded  with  June  sunshine  the  agency 
had  never  looked  more  attractive,  from  the 
white  man's  standpoint.  The  main  street 
was  wide,  with  a  parkway  in  the  center, 
shaded  with  cottonwoods.  The  school  build- 
ings, dormitories,  dining-hall,  auditorium, 
and  several  of  the  employees'  residences 
faced  this  street.  The  agent's  house  nestled 
among  trees  and  shrubbery  on  the  most 


6  MYSTERY  RANCH 

attractive  corner.  The  sidewalks  were  wide, 
and  made  of  cement.  There  was  a  good 
water  system,  as  the  faithfully  irrigated 
lawns  testified.  Arc  lights  swung  from  the 
street  intersections,  and  there  were  incan- 
descents  in  every  house.  A  sewer  system 
had  just  been  completed.  Indian  boys  and 
girls  were  looking  after  gardens  in  vacant 
lots.  There  were  experimental  ranches  sur- 
rounding the  agency.  In  the  stables  and 
enclosures  were  pure-bred  cattle  and  sheep, 
the  nucleus  of  tribal  flocks  and  herds  of 
better  standards. 

In  less  than  four  years  Walter  Lowell  had 
made  the  agency  a  model  of  its  kind.  He 
had  done  much  to  interest  even  the  older 
Indians  in  agriculture.  The  school-children, 
owing  to  a  more  liberal  educational  system, 
had  lost  the  customary  look  of  apathy.  The 
agent's  work  had  been  commended  in  annual 
reports  from  Washington.  The  agency  had 
been  featured  in  newspaper  and  magazine 
articles,  and  yet  Lowell  had  felt  that  he  was 
far  from  accomplishing  anything  permanent. 
Ancient  customs  and  superstitions  had  to 


MYSTERY  RANCH  7 

be  reckoned  with.  Smouldering  fires  occa- 
sionally broke  out  in  most  alarming  fashion. 
Only  recently  there  had  been  a  serious  im- 
pairment of  reservation  morale,  owing  to 
the  spectacular  rise  of  a  young  Indian  named 
Fire  Bear,  who  had  gathered  many  followers, 
and  who,  with  his  cohorts,  had  proceeded  to 
dance  and  "make  medicine'  to  the  exclu- 
sion of  all  other  employment.  Fire  Bear's 
defection  had  set  many  rumors  afloat. 
Timid  settlers  near  the  reservation  had  ex- 
pressed fear  of  a  general  uprising,  which 
fear  had  been  fanned  by  the  threats  and 
boastings  sent  broadcast  by  some  of  Fire 
Bear's  more  reckless  followers. 

Lowell  was  frankly  worried  as  he  sped 
away  from  the  agency  with  Plenty  Buffalo 
and  the  interpreter.  Every  crime,  large  or 
small,  which  occurred  near  the  reservation, 
and  which  did  not  carry  its  own  solution, 
was  laid  to  Indians.  Here  was  something 
which  pointed  directly  to  Indian  handi- 
work, and  Lowell  in  imagination  could  hear 
a  great  outcry  going  up. 

Plenty  Buffalo  gave  little  more  informa- 


8  MYSTERY  RANCH 

tion  as  the  car  swayed  along  the  road  that 
led  off  the  reservation. 

"He  says  he  was  off  the  reservation  trail- 
ing Jim  McFann,"  remarked  the  interpreter. 
"He  thought  Jim  was  going  along  the  road 
to  Talpers 's  store,  but  Plenty  Buffalo  was 
mistaken.  He  did  not  find  Jim,  but  what 
he  did  find  was  this  man  who  had  been 
killed." 

"Jim  McFann  is  n't  a  bad  fellow  at  heart, 
but  this  bootlegging  and  trailing  around 
with  Bill  Talpers  will  get  him  in  trouble 
yet,"  replied  the  agent.  "  He 's  pretty  clever, 
or  Plenty  Buffalo's  men  would  have  caught 
him  long  before  this." 

1  They  were  approaching  Talpers 's  store  as 
the  agent  spoke.  The  store  was  a  barn-like 
building,  with  a  row  of  poplars  at  the  north, 
and  a  big  cottonwood  in  front.  A  few  houses 
were  clustered  about.  Bill  Talpers,  store- 
keeper and  postmaster,  looked  out  of  the 
door  as  the  automobile  went  past.  Generally 
there  were  Indians  sitting  in  front  of  the 
store,  but  to-day  there  were  none.  Plenty 
Buffalo  volunteered  the  information  that 


MYSTERY  RANCH  9 

there  had  been  a  "big  sing'  on  a  distant 
part  of  the  reservation  which  had  attracted 
most  of  the  residents  from  this  neighbor- 
hood. Talpers  was  seen  running  out  to  his 
horse,  which  stood  in  front  of  the  store. 

"He'll  be  along  pretty  soon,"  said  the 
agent.  "He  knows  there's  something  un- 
usual going  on." 

The  road  over  which  the  party  was  travel- 
ing was  sometimes  called  the  Dollar  Sign, 
for  the  reason  that  it  wound  across  the  res- 
ervation line  like  a  letter  c  After  leaving 
White  Lodge,  which  was  of  Jie  reservation, 
any  traveler  on  the  road  crossed  the  line  and 
soon  went  through  the  agency.  Then  there 
was  a  curve  which  took  him  across  the  line 
again  to  Talpers 's,  after  which  a  reverse 
curve  swept  back  into  the  Indians'  domain. 
All  of  which  was  the  cause  of  no  little  trouble 
to  the  agent  and  the  Indian  police,  for  boot- 
leggers found  it  easy  to  operate  from  White 
Lodge  or  Talpers 's  and  drop  back  again 
across  the  line  to  safety. 

Another  ten  miles,  on  the  sweep  of  the 
road  toward  the  reservation,  and  the  auto- 


io  MYSTERY  RANCH 

mobile  was  sighted.  The  body  was  found, 
as  Plenty  Buffalo  had  described  it.  The  man 
had  been  murdered  —  that  much  was  plain 
enough. 

"Buckshot,  from  a  sawed-off  shotgun 
probably,"  said  the  agent,  shuddering. 

Whoever  had  fired  the  shot  had  done  his 
work  with  deadly  accuracy.  Part  of  the 
man's  face  had  been  carried  away.  He  had 
been  well  along  in  years,  as  his  gray  hair 
indicated,  but  his  frame  was  sturdy.  He 
was  dressed  in  khaki  —  a  garb  much  af- 
fected by  transcontinental  automobile  tour- 
ists. The  car  which  he  had  been  driving  was 
big  and  expensive. 

Other  details  were  forgotten  for  the  mo- 
ment in  the  fact  that  the  man  had  been 
staked  to  the  prairie.  Ropes  had  been  at- 
tached to  his  hands  and  feet.  These  ropes 
were  fastened  to  tent-stakes  driven  into  the 
prairie. 

"The  man  had  been  camping  along  the 
route,"  said  the  agent,  "and  whoever  did 
this  shooting  probably  used  the  victim's 
own  tent-stakes." 


MYSTERY  RANCH  n 

This  opinion  was  confirmed  after  a  mo- 
mentary examination  of  the  tonneau  of  the 
car,  which  disclosed  a  tent,  duffle-bag,  and 
other  camping  equipment. 

"Look  around  the  prairie  and  see  if  you 
can  find  any  of  this  man's  belongings  scat- 
tered about,"  said  Lowell. 

"Plenty  Buffalo  wants  to  know  if  you 
noticed  all  the  pony  tracks,"  said  the  in- 
terpreter. 

"Yes,"  replied  Lowell  bitterly.  "I  could 
n't  very  well  help  seeing  them.  What  does 
Plenty  Buffalo  think  about  them?" 

"They're  Indian  pony  tracks — no  doubt 
about  that,"  said  the  interpreter,  "but  there 
is  no  telling  just  when  they  were  made.'3 

"I  see.  It  might  have  been  at  the  time 
of  the  murder,  or  afterward." 

Lowell  looked  closely  at  the  pony  tracks, 
which  were  thick  about  the  automobile  and 
the  body.  Plainly  there  had  been  a  consider- 
able body  of  horsemen  on  the  scene.  Plenty 
Buffalo,  skilled  in  trailing,  had  not  hesi- 
tated to  announce  that  the  tracks  were  those 
of  Indian  ponies.   If  more  evidence  were 


\i  MYSTERY  RANCH 

needed,  there  were  the  imprints  of  mocca- 
sined  feet  in  the  dust. 

Lowell  surveyed  the  scene  while  Plenty 
Buffalo  and  the  interpreter  searched  the 
prairie  for  more  clues.  The  agent  did  not 
want  to  disturb  the  body  nor  search  the 
automobile  until  the  arrival  of  the  sheriff,  as 
the  murder  had  happened  outside  of  Gov- 
ernment jurisdiction,  and  the  local  authori- 
ties were  jealous  of  their  rights.  The  murder 
had  been  done  close  to  the  brow  of  a  low 
hill.  The  gently  rolling  prairie  stretched  to 
a  creek  on  one  side,  and  to  interminable  dis- 
tance on  the  other.  There  was  a  carpet  of 
green  grass  in  both  directions,  dotted  with 
clumps  of  sagebrush.  It  had  rained  a  few 
days  before  —  the  last  rain  of  many,  it 
chanced  —  and  there  were  damp  spots  in 
the  road  in  places  and  the  grass  and  the  sage 
were  fresh  in  color.  Meadow-larks  were 
trilling,  and  the  whole  scene  was  one  of 
peace  —  provided  the  beholder  could  blot 
out  the  memory  of  the  tenantless  clay 
stretched  out  upon  clay. 

In  a  few  minutes  Sheriff  Tom  Redmond 


MYSTERY  RANCH  13 

and  a  deputy  arrived  in  an  automobile  from 
White  Lodge.  They  were  followed  by  Bill 
Talpers,  in  the  saddle. 

Redmond  was  a  tall,  square-shouldered 
cattleman,  who  still  clung  to  the  rough  garb 
and  high-heeled  boots  of  the  cowpuncher, 
though  he  seldom  used  any  means  of  travel 
but  the  automobile.  Western  winds,  heated 
by  fiery  Western  suns,  had  burned  his  face 
to  the  color  of  saddle-leather.  His  eyebrows 
were  shaggy  and  light-colored,  and  Nature's 
bleaching  elements  had  reduced  a  straw- 
colored  mustache  to  a  discouraging  non- 
descript tone. 

"  Looks  like  an  Injun  job,  Lowell,  don't 
it?"  asked  Redmond,  as  his  sharp  eyes  took 
in  the  situation  in  darting  glances. 

"Is  n't  it  a  little  early  to  come  to  that  con- 
clusion?" queried  the  agent. 

"There  ain't  no  other  conclusion  to  come 
to,"  broke  in  Talpers,  who  had  joined  the 
group  in  an  inspection  of  the  scene.  "Look 
at  them  pony  tracks  —  all  Injun.'3 

Talpers  was  broad  —  almost  squat  of 
figure.   His  complexion  was  brick  red.  He 


i4  MYSTERY  RANCH 

had  a  thin,  curling  black  beard  and  mus- 
tache. He  was  one  of  the  men  to  whom  al- 
kali is  a  constant  poison,  and  his  lips  were 
always  cracked  and  bleeding.  His  voice  was 
husky  and  disagreeable,  his  small  eyes  be- 
spoke the  brute  in  him,  and  yet  he  was  not 
without  certain  qualities  of  leadership  which 
seemed  to  appeal  particularly  to  the  Indi- 
ans. His  store  was  headquarters  for  the 
rough  and  idle  element  of  the  reservation. 
Also  it  was  the  center  of  considerable  white 
trade,  for  it  was  the  only  store  for  miles 
in  either  direction,  and  in  addition  was  the 
general  post-office. 

Knowing  of  Talpers's  friendliness  for  the 
rebellious  element  among  the  Indians,  Low- 
ell looked  at  the  trader  in  surprise. 

"You  didn't  see  any  Indians  doing  this, 
did  you,  Talpers?"  he  asked. 

The  trader  hastened  to  qualify  his  re- 
mark, as  it  would  not  do  to  have  the  word 
get  out  among  the  Indians  that  he  had 
attempted  to  throw  the  blame  on  them. 

"No  — I  ain't  exactly  sayin'  that  Injuns 
done  it,"  said  the  trader,  "but  I  ain't  ever 


MYSTERY  RANCH  15 

seen  more  signs  pointin'  in  one  direction." 

''Well,  don't  let  signs  get  you  so  far  off 
the  right  trail  that  you  can't  get  back 
again,"  replied  the  agent,  turning  to  help 
Tom  Redmond  and  his  deputy  in  the  work 
of  establishing  the  identity  of  the  slain 
man. 

It  was  work  that  did  not  take  long.  Pa- 
pers were  found  in  the  pockets  indicating 
that  the  victim  was  Edward  B.  Sargent,  of 
St.  Louis.  In  the  automobile  was  found 
clothing  bearing  St.  Louis  trademarks. 

"Judging  from  the  balance  in  this  check- 
book," said  the  sheriff,  'he  was  a  man  who 
did  n't  have  to  worry  about  financial  affairs. 
Probably  this  is  only  a  checking  account, 
for  running  expenses,  but  there's  thirty 
thousand  to  his  credit." 

"He's  probably  some  tourist  on  his  way 
to  the  coast,"  observed  the  deputy,  "and 
he  thought  he'd  make  a  detour  and  see  an 
Injun  reservation.  Somebody  saw  a  good 
chance  for  a  holdup,  but  he  showed  fight 
and  got  killed." 

"Nobody  reported  such  a  machine  as  go- 


1 6  MYSTERY  RANCH 

ing  through  the  agency/'  offered  Lowell. 
"The  car  is  big  enough  and  showy  enough  to 
attract  attention  anywhere." 

"I  didn't  see  him  go  past  my  place,"  said 
Talpers.  "And  if  my  clerk 'd  seen  him  he'd 
have  said  somethin'  about  it." 

"Well,  he  was  killed  sometime  yesterday 
—  that's  sure,"  remarked  the  sheriff.  "He 
might  have  come  through  early  in  the  morn- 
ing and  nobody  saw  him,  or  he  might  have 
hit  White  Lodge  and  the  agency  and  Tal- 
pers 's  late  at  night  and  camped  here  along 
the  Dollar  Sign  until  morning  and  been 
killed  when  he  started  on.  The  thing  of  it  is 
that  this  is  as  far  as  he  got,  and  we've  got 
to  find  the  ones  that's  responsible.  This 
kind  of  a  killing  is  jest  going  to  make  the 
White  Lodge  Chamber  of  Commerce  get  up 
on  its  hind  legs  and  howl.  There's  bound 
to  be  speeches  telling  how,  just  when  we've 
about  convinced  the  East  that  we  've  shook 
off  our  wild  Western  ways,  here  comes  a 
murder  that's  wilder 'n  anything  that's  been 
pulled  off  since  the  trapper  days." 

"Accordin'  to  my  way  of  thinkin',"  said 


MYSTERY  RANCH  17 

Talpers,  "that  man  was  n't  tortured  after 
he  was  staked  down.  Any  one  who  knows 
anything  about  Injun  character  knows  that 
when  they  pegged  a  victim  out  that  way, 
they  intended  for  him  to  furnish  some  amuse- 
ment, such  as  having  splinters  stuck  into 
him  and  bein'  set  afire  by  the  squaws." 

"They  probably  thought  they  seen  some 
one  coming,"  said  the  sheriff,  "and  shot  him 
after  they  got  him  tied  down,  and  then  made 
a  quick  getaway." 

"  That  man  was  shot  before  he  was  tied 
down,"  interposed  Lowell  quietly. 

"What  makes  you  think  that?  "  Redmond 
said  quickly. 

"There  are  no  powder  marks  on  his  face. 
And  any  one  shot  at  such  close  range,  by 
some  one  standing  over  him,  would  have 
had  his  head  blown  away." 

Redmond  assented,  grudgingly. 

"What  does  Plenty  Buffalo  think  about  it 
all?"  he  asked. 

Lowell  called  the  police  chief  and  the  in- 
terpreter. Plenty  Buffalo  declared  that  he 
was  puzzled.  He  was  not  prepared  to  make 


1 8  MYSTERY  RANCH 

any  statement  at  all  as  yet.  He  might  have 
something  later  on. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  agent,  motioning 
to  Plenty  Buffalo  to  go  on  with  the  close 
investigations  he  had  been  silently  carry- 
ing on.  "We  may  get  something  of  value 
from  him  when  he  has  finished  looking.  But 
there 's  no  use  coaxing  him  to  talk  now.,: 

"I  s'pose  not,"  rejoined  Redmond  sneer- 
ingly.  "  What 's  more,  I  s'pose  he  can't  even 
see  them  Injun  pony  tracks  around  the  body." 

"He  called  my  attention  to  them  as  soon 
as  we  arrived  here,"  said  Lowell.  "But  as 
far  as  that  goes  he  did  n't  need  to.  Those 
things  are  as  evident  as  the  bald  fact  that 
the  man  has  been  killed." 

"Well,  that 's  about  the  only  clue  there  is, 
as  far  as  I  can  figger  out,"  remarked  the 
sheriff  testily,  "and  that  points  straight  and 
clean  to  some  of  your  wards  on  the  reser- 
vation." 

"Count  on  me  for  any  help,"  replied 
Lowell  crisply.  "All  I'm  interested  in,  of 
course,  is  seeing  the  guilty  brought  out  into 
the  light." 


MYSTERY  RANCH  19 

Turning  away  and  ending  a  controversy, 
which  he  knew  would  be  fruitless,  Lowell 
made  another  searching  personal  examina- 
tion of  the  scene.  h  He  examined  the  stakes, 
having  in  mind  the  possibility  of  finger- 
prints. But  no  tell-tale  mark  had  been  left 
behind.  The  stakes  were  too  rough  to  ad- 
mit the  possibility  of  any  finger-prints  that 
might  be  microscopically  detected.  The 
road  and  prairie  surrounding  the  automo- 
bile were  examined,  but  nothing  save  pony 
tracks,  numerous  and  indiscriminately  min- 
gled, rewarded  his  efforts. 

"Them  Injuns  jest  milled  around  this 
machine  and  the  body  of  that  hombrey," 
said  Talpers.  "There  must  have  been 
twenty-five  of  'em  in  the  bunch,  anyway, 
ain't  I  right,  Plenty  Buffalo?'  added  the 
trader,  repeating  his  remark  in  the  Indian's 
tribal  tongue,  in  which  the  white  man  was 
expert. 

"Heap  Injun  here,"  agreed  Plenty  Buf- 
falo, not  averse  to  showing  off  a  large  part  of 
his  limited  English  vocabulary. 

"That  trouble-maker,  Fire  Bear,  is  the 


20  MYSTERY  RANCH 

only  one  who  travels  much  with  a  gang, 
ain't  he?"  demanded  Redmond. 

"Yes,"  assented  the  agent.  "He  has  had 
from  fifty  to  one  hundred  young  Indians 
making  medicine  with  him  on  Wolf  Moun- 
tain, Rest  assured  that  Fire  Bear  and  every 
one  with  him  will  have  to  give  an  account  of 
himself." 

"That's  the  talk!"  exclaimed  Redmond, 
pulling  at  his  mustache.  "I  ain't  afraid  of 
your  not  shooting  straight  in  this  thing,  Mr. 
Lowell,  but  you  've  got  to  admit  that  you  've 
stuck  up  for  Injuns  the  way  no  other  agent 
has  ever  stuck  up  for  'em  before,  and  nat- 
chelly  — " 

"Naturally  you  thought  I  might  even 
cover  up  murder  for  them,"  added  Lowell 
good-naturedly.  "Well,  get  that  idea  out  of 
your  head.  But  also  get  it  out  of  your  head 
that  I  'm  going  to  see  any  Indian  or  Indians 
railroaded  for  a  crime  that  possibly  he  or 
they  did  n't  commit." 

"All  right!"  snapped  the  sheriff,  in- 
stantly as  belligerent  and  suspicious  as  ever. 
"But  this  thing  is  going  to  be  worked  out  on 


MYSTERY  RANCH  21 

the  evidence,  and  right  now  the  evidence  — • 

"  Which  is  all  circumstantial." 

"Yes,  circumstantial  it  may  be,  but  it's 
mighty  strong  against  some  of  your  people 
over  that  there  line,  and  it's  going  to  be 
followed  up." 

Lowell  shrugged  his  shoulders,  knowing 
the  futility  of  further  argument  with  the 
sheriff,  who  was  representative  of  the  con- 
siderable element  that  always  looked  upon 
Indians  as  "red  devils"  and  that  would  never 
admit  that  any  good  existed  in  race  or  in- 
dividual. 

The  agent  assisted  in  removing  the  body 
of  the  murdered  man  to  the  big  automobile 
that  had  been  standing  in  the  road,  a  silent 
witness  to  the  crime.  Lowell  drove  the  ma- 
chine to  White  Lodge,  at  the  request  of  the 
sheriff,  and  sent  telegrams  which  might 
establish  the  dead  man's  identity  beyond 
all  doubt. 

Meantime  the  news  of  the  murder  was  not 
long  in  making  its  devious  way  about  the 
sparsely  settled  countryside.  Most  of  the 
population  of  White  Lodge,  and  ranchers 


ii  MYSTERY  RANCH 

from  remote  districts,  visited  the  scene. 
One  fortunate  individual,  who  had  arrived 
before  the  body  had  been  removed,  in- 
terested various  groups  by  stretching  him- 
self out  on  the  prairie  on  the  exact  spot 
where  the  slain  man  had  been  found. 

"Here  he  laid,  jest  like  this,"  the  actor 
would  conclude,  "right  out  here  in  the 
bunch  grass  and  prickly  pear,  with  his  hands 
and  feet  tied  to  them  tent-stakes,  and  pony 
tracks  and  moccasin  tracks  all  mixed  around 
in  the  dust  jest  as  if  a  hull  tribe  had  been 
millin'  here.  If  a  lot  of  Injuns  don't  swing 
for  this,  then  there 's  no  use  of  callin'  this  a 
white  man's  country  any  more." 

The  flames  of  resentment  needed  no 
fanning,  as  Lowell  found.  The  agent  had 
not  concluded  his  work  with  the  sheriff  at 
White  Lodge  before  he  heard  thinly  veiled 
threats  directed  at  all  Indians  and  their 
friends.  He  paid  no  attention  to  the  com- 
ments, but  drove  back  to  the  agency,  suc- 
cessfully masking  the  grave  concern  he  felt. 
In  the  evening,  his  chief  clerk,  Ed  Rogers, 
found  Lowell  reading  a  magazine. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  23 

'The  talk  is  that  you'll  have  to  get  Fire 
Bear  for  this  murder,"  said  Rogers.  Then 
the  chief  clerk  added,  bluntly:  "I  thought 
sure  you'd  be  working  on  this  case." 

Lowell  smiled  at  the  clerk's  astonishment. 

"There's  nothing  more  that  requires  my 
attention  just  now,"  he  said.  "If  Fire  Bear 
is  wanted,  we  can  always  get  him.  That's 
one  thing  that  simplifies  all  such  matters, 
where  Indians  are  concerned.  An  Indian 
can't  lose  himself  in  a  crowd,  like  a  white 
man.  Furthermore,  he  never  thinks  of  leav- 
ing the  reservation." 

Here  the  young  agent  rose  and  yawned. 

"Anyway,"  he  remarked,  "it  isn't  our 
move  right  now.  Until  it  is,  I  prefer  to 
think  of  pleasanter  things." 

But  the  agent's  thoughts  were  not  on  any 
of  the  pleasant  things  contained  in  the  maga- 
zine he  had  flung  into  a  corner.  They  were 
dwelling  most  consistently  upon  a  pleasing 
journey  he  had  enjoyed,  a  few  days  before, 
with  a  young  woman  whom  he  had  taken 
from  the  agency  to  Mystery  Ranch. 


CHAPTER  II 

Helen  Erven's  life  in  a  private  school 
for  girls  at  San  Francisco  had  been  un- 
eventful until  her  graduation.  She  had  been 
in  the  school  for  ten  years.  Before  that,  she 
had  vague  recollections  of  a  school  that  was 
not  so  well  conducted.  In  fact,  almost  her 
entire  recollection  was  of  teachers,  school 
chums,  and  women  who  had  been  hired  as 
companions  and  tutors.  Some  one  had  paid 
much  money  for  her  upbringing  —  that 
much  Helen  Ervin  knew.  The  mystery  of 
her  caretaking  was  known,  of  course,  by 
Miss  Scovill,  head  of  the  Scovill  School,  but 
it  had  never  been  disclosed.  It  had  become 
such  an  ancient  mystery  that  Helen  told 
herself  she  had  lost  all  interest  in  it.  Miss 
Scovill  was  kind  and  motherly,  and  would 
answer  any  other  questions.  She  had  taken 
personal  charge  of  the  girl,  who  lived  at  the 
Scovill  home  during  vacations  as  well  as 
throughout  the  school  year. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  25 

"  Some  day  it  will  all  be  explained  to  you," 
Miss  Scovill  had  said,  "but  for  the  present 
you  are  simply  to  learn  all  you  can  and  con- 
tinue to  be  just  as  nice  as  you  have  been. 
And  meantime  rest  assured  that  somebody 
is  vitally  interested  in  your  welfare  and 
happiness." 

The  illuminating  letter  came  a  few  days 
after  graduation.  The  girls  had  all  gone 
home  and  school  was  closed.  Helen  was 
alone  in  the  Scovill  home.  Miss  Scovill  had 
gone  away  for  a  few  days,  on  business. 

The  letter  bore  a  postmark  with  a  strange, 
Indian-sounding  name:  "White  Lodge."  It 
was  in  a  man's  handwriting  —  evidently  a 
man  who  had  written  much.  The  signature, 
which  was  first  to  be  glanced  at  by  the  girl, 
read:  "From  your  affectionate  stepfather, 
Willis  Morgan."   The  letter  was  as  follows: 

No  doubt  you  will  be  surprised  at  getting  this 
letter  from  one  whose  existence  you  have  not  sus- 
pected. I  had  thought  to  let  you  remain  in  darkness 
concerning  me.  For  years  I  have  been  pleased  to 
pay  your  expenses  in  school  —  glad  in  the  thought 
that  you  were  getting  the  best  care  and  education 
that  could  be  purchased.  But  my  affairs  have  taken 


a6  MYSTERY  RANCH 

a  bad  turn.  I  am,  to  put  it  vulgarly,  cramped  finan- 
cially. Moreover,  the  loneliness  in  my  heart  has 
become  fairly  overmastering.  I  can  steel  myself 
against  it  no  longer.  I  want  you  with  me  in  my  de- 
clining years.  I  cannot  leave  here.  I  have  become 
greatly  attached  to  this  part  of  the  country,  and  have 
no  doubt  that  you  will  be,  also.  Sylvan  scenes,  with 
a  dash  of  human  savagery  in  the  foreground,  form 
the  best  relief  for  a  too-extended  assimilation  of 
books.  It  has  been  like  balm  to  me,  and  will  prove 
so  to  you. 

Briefly,  I  want  you  to  come,  and  at  once.  A  check 
to  cover  expenses  is  enclosed.  Your  school  years  are 
ended,  and  a  life  of  quiet,  amid  scenes  of  aborigi- 
nal romance,  awaits  you  here.  Selfishly,  perhaps,  I 
appeal  to  your  gratitude,  if  the  prospect  I  have  held 
out  does  not  prove  enticing  of  itself.  If  what  I  have 
done  for  you  in  all  these  years  entitles  me  to  any 
return,  I  ask  you  not  to  delay  the  payment.  By 
coming  now,  you  can  wipe  the  slate  clean  of  any 
indebtedness. 

Then  followed  directions  about  reaching 
the  ranch  —  the  Greek  Letter  Ranch,  the 
writer  called  it  —  and  a  final  appeal  to  her 
sense  of  gratitude. 

When  Helen  finished  reading  the  letter, 
her  heart  was  suffused  with  pity  for  this 
lonely  man  who  had  come  thus  strangely 
and  unexpectedly  into  her  life.   Her  good 


MYSTERY  RANCH  27 

impulses  had  always  prompted  her  strongly. 
Miss  Scovill  was  away,  so  Helen  left  her  a 
note  of  explanation,  telling  everything  in 
detail.  "I  know,  dear  foster  mother,"  wrote 
the  girl,  "that  you  are  going  to  rejoice  with 
me,  now  that  I  have  found  my  stepfather. 
I'll  be  looking  forward  to  the  time  when  you 
can  visit  us  at  the  Greek  Letter  Ranch." 

Making  ready  for  the  journey  took  only 
a  short  time.  In  a  few  hours  Helen  was  on 
her  way,  little  knowing  that  Miss  Scovill, 
on  her  return,  was  frantically  sending  out 
telegrams  which  indicated  anything  but 
a  peaceful  acceptance  of  conditions.  One  of 
these  telegrams,  sent  to  an  address  which 
Helen  would  not  have  recognized,  read: 

The  dove  has  been  lured  to  the  serpent's  nest. 
Take  what  action  you  deem  best,  but  quickly. 

Helen  enjoyed  her  trip  through  California 
and  then  eastward  through  the  Northwest 
country  to  the  end  of  the  spur  which  pointed 
toward  the  reservation.  From  the  railroad's 
end  she  went  to  White  Lodge  by  stage. 
From  White  Lodge  she  was  told  she  had 
better  take  a  private  conveyance  to  her 


28  MYSTERY  RANCH 

destination.  She  hired  a  rig  of  a  livery- 
stable  keeper,  who  said  he  could  not  possibly 
take  her  beyond  the  Indian  agency. 

"Mebbe  some  one  there'll  take  you  the 
rest  of  the  way,"  said  the  liveryman;  and, 
accepting  his  hopeful  view  of  the  situation, 
the  girl  consented  to  go  on  in  such  indef- 
inite fashion. 

Thus  it  happened  that  a  slender,  white- 
clad  young  woman,  with  a  suitcase  at  her 
feet,  stood  on  the  agency  office  porch,  under- 
going the  steady  scrutiny  of  four  or  five 
blanketed  Indian  matrons  when  Walter 
Lowell  came  back  from  lunch.  In  a  few 
words  Helen  had  explained  matters,  and 
Lowell  picked  up  her  suitcase,  and,  after 
ascertaining  that  she  had  had  no  lunch, 
escorted  her  up  the  street  to  the  dining-hall. 

"  We  have  a  little  lunch  club  of  employees, 
and  guests  often  sit  in  with  us,'5  said  the 
agent  cordially.  "After  you  eat,  and  have 
rested  up  a  bit,  I  '11  see  that  you  are  driven 
over  to  the  — ■  to  the  Greek  Letter  Ranch.'3 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Lowell  had  to  think 
several  times  before  he  could  get  the  Greek 


MYSTERY  RANCH  29 

Letter  Ranch  placed  in  his  mind.  He  had 
fallen  into  the  habit  —  in  common  with 
others  in  the  neighborhood  —  of  calling  it 
Mystery  Ranch.  Also  Willis  Morgan's  name 
was  mentioned  so  seldom  that  the  agent's 
mental  gymnastics  were  long  sustained  and 
almost  painfully  apparent  before  he  had 
matters  righted. 

"Rogers,"  said  Lowell  to  his  chief  clerk, 
on  getting  back  to  the  agency  office,  "how 
many  years  has  Willis  Morgan  been  in  this 
part  of  the  country?" 

"Willis  Morgan,"  echoed  Rogers,  scratch- 
ing his  head.  "  Oh,  I  know  now !  You  mean 
the  'squaw  professor.'  He  hasn't  been 
called  Morgan  since  he  married  that  squaw 
who  died  five  years  go.  There  was  talk  that 
he  used  to  be  a  college  professor,  which  is 
right,  I  guess,  from  the  number  of  books 
he  reads.  But  when  he  married  an  Indian 
folks  just  called  him  the  'squaw  prof.'  He's 
been  out  here  twelve  or  fifteen  years,  I 
guess.  Let's  see — he  got  those  Indian 
lands  through  his  wife  when  Jones  was 
agent.   He  must  have  moved  off  the  reser- 


3o  MYSTERY  RANCH 

vation  when  Arbuckle  was  agent,  just  before 
you  came  on." 

"Did  he  always  use  a  Greek  letter  brand 
on  his  cattle?" 

"Always.  He  never  ran  many  cattle.  I 
guess  he  has  n't  got  any  at  all  now.  But 
what  he  did  have  he  always  insisted  on  hav- 
ing branded  with  that  pitchfork  brand,  as 
the  cowpunchers  call  it." 

"I  know  —it's  the  letter  Psi." 

"Well,  Si,  or  whatever  other  nickname  it 
is,  even  the  toughest-hearted  old  cowmen 
used  to  kick  on  having  to  put  such  a  big 
brand  on  critters.  That  big  pitchfork  on 
flanks  or  shoulders  must  have  spoiled  many 
a  hide  for  Morgan,  but  he  always  insisted  on 
having  it  slapped  on." 

"Have  the  Indians  always  got  along  with 
him  pretty  well?" 

"Yes,  because  they're  afraid  of  him  and 
leave  him  alone.  It  ain't  physical  fear,  but 
something  deeper,  like  being  afraid  of  a 
snake,  I  guess.  You  see  he  knows  so  damn 
much,  he's  uncanny.  It's  the  power  of 
mind  over  matter.    Seems  funny  to  think 


MYSTERY  RANCH  31 

of  him  having  the  biggest  Indians  buffaloed, 
but  he's  done  it,  and  he's  buffaloed  the 
white  folks,  too.  He  gave  it  out  that  he 
wanted  to  be  let  alone,  and,  by  jimminy, 
he 's  been  let  alone !  I  '11  bet  there  aren't  four 
people  in  the  county  who  have  seen  his  face 
in  as  many  years." 

"Did  he  have  any  children?" 

"No.  His  wife  was  a  pretty  little  Indian 
woman.  He  just  married  her  to  show  his 
defiance  of  society,  I  guess.  Anyway,  he 
must  have  killed  her  by  inches.  If  he  had 
the  other  Indians  scared,  you  can  imagine 
how  he  must  have  terrorized  her.  Yet  I'll 
bet  he  never  raised  his  voice  above  an  or- 
dinary conversational  tone." 

Lowell  frowned  as  he  looked  out  across 
the  agency  street. 

"Why,  what's  come  up  about  Morgan?' 
asked  Rogers. 

"Oh,  not  such  a  lot,"  replied  the  agent. 
"It's  only  that  there's  a  girl  here — his 
stepdaughter,  it  seems  —  and  she 's  going 
to  make  her  home  with  him." 

"Good  Lord!"  ejaculated  the  chief  clerk. 


32  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"She's  over  at  the  club  table  now  having 
lunch,"  went  on  Lowell.  "I'm  going  to 
drive  her  over  to  the  ranch.  She  seems  to 
think  this  stepfather  of  hers  is  all  kinds  of  a 
nice  fellow,  and  I  can't  tell  her  that  she'd 
better  take  her  little  suitcase  and  go  right 
back  where  she  came  from.  Besides,  who 
knows  that  she  may  be  right  and  we've 
been  misjudging  Morgan  all  these  years?' 

"Well,  if  Willis  Morgan's  been  misjudged, 
then  I'm  really  an  angel  all  ready  to  sprout 
wings,"  observed  the  clerk.  "But  maybe 
he's  braced  up,  or,  if  he  hasn't,  this  step- 
daughter has  tackled  the  job  of  reforming 
him.  If  she  does  it,  it'll  be  the  supreme 
test  of  what  woman  can  do  along  that  line.'3 

"What  business  have  bachelors  such  as 
you  and  I  to  be  talking  about  any  reforma- 
tions wrought  by  woman?'  asked  Lowell 
smilingly. 

"Not  much,"  agreed  Rogers.  "Outside 
of  the  school-teachers  and  other  agency  em- 
ployees I  haven't  seen  a  dozen  white  women 
since  I  went  to  Denver  three  years  ago. 
And  you  —  why,  you  have  n't  been  away 


MYSTERY  RANCH  33 

from  here  except  on  one  trip  to  Washington 
in  the  last  four  years." 

Each  man  looked  out  of  the  window,  ab- 
sorbed in  his  own  dreams.  Lowell  had  for- 
saken an  active  career  to  take  up  the  routine 
of  an  Indian  agent's  life.  After  leaving  col- 
lege he  had  done  some  newspaper  work, 
which  he  abandoned  because  a  position  as 
land  investigator  for  a  corporation  with  oil 
interests  in  view  had  given  him  a  chance  to 
travel  in  the  West.  There  had  been  a  chance 
journey  across  an  Indian  reservation,  with 
a  sojourn  at  an  agency.  Lowell  had  de- 
cided that  his  work  had  been  spread  before 
him.  By  persistent  personal  effort  and  the 
use  of  some  political  influence,  he  secured 
an  appointment  as  Indian  agent.  The  mon- 
etary reward  was  small,  but  he  had  not 
regretted  his  choice.  Only  there  were  memo- 
ries such  as  this  girl  brought  to  him  — 
memories  of  college  days  when  there  were 
certain  other  girls  in  white  dresses,  and  when 
there  was  music  far  removed  from  weird 
Indian  chants,  and  the  thud-thud  of  moc- 
casins was  not  always  in  his  ears  . . . 


34  MYSTERY  RANCH 

Lowell  rose  hastily. 

"They  must  be  through  eating  over 
there,"  he  said.  "But  I  positively  hate  to 
start  the  trip  that  will  land  the  girl  at  that 
ranch." 

The  agent  drove  his  car  over  to  the 
dining-hall.  When  Helen  came  out,  the 
agency  blacksmith  was  carrying  her  suit- 
case, and  the  matron,  Mrs.  Ryers,  had  her 
arm  about  the  girl's  waist,  for  friends  are 
quickly  made  in  the  West's  lonely  places. 
School-teachers  and  other  agency  employees 
chorused  good-bye  as  the  automobile  was 
driven  away. 

The  girl  was  flushed  with  pleasure,  and 
there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"I  don't  blame  you  for  liking  to  live 
on  an  Indian  reservation,"  she  said,  'amid 
such  cordial  people." 

"Well,  it  isn't  so  bad,  though,  of  course, 
we're  in  a  backwater  here,"  said  Lowell. 
"An  Indian  reservation  gives  you  a  queer 
feeling  that  way.  The  tides  of  civilization 
are  racing  all  around,  but  here  the  progress 
is  painfully  slow." 


MYSTERY  RANCH  3S 

"Tell  me  more  about  it,  please,"  pleaded 
the  girl.  "This  lovely  place — surely  the 
Indians  like  it." 

"Some  of  them  do,  perhaps,"  said  Lowell. 
'But  they  haven't  been  trained  to  this  sort 
of  thing.  A  lodge  out  there  on  the  prairie, 
with  game  to  be  hunted  and  horses  to  be 
ridden  —  that  would  suit  the  most  ad- 
vanced of  them  better  than  settled  life 
anywhere.  But,  of  course,  all  that  is  impos- 
sible, and  the  thing  is  to  reconcile  them  to 
the  inevitable  things  they  have  to  face. 
And  even  reconciling  white  people  to  the 
inevitable  is  no  easy  job." 

'No,  it's  harder,  really,  than  teaching 
these  poor  Indians,  I  suppose,'5  agreed  the 
girl.  'But  don't  you  find  lots  to  recom- 
pense you?" 

Lowell  stole  a  look  at  her,  and  then  he 
slowed  the  car's  pace  considerably.  There 
was  no  use  hurrying  to  the  ranch  with  such 
a  charming  companion  aboard.  The  fresh 
June  breeze  had  loosened  a  strand  or  two  of 
her  brown  hair.  The  bright,  strong  sunshine 
merely  emphasized  the  youthful  perfection 


36  MYSTERY  RANCH 

of  her  complexion.  She  had  walked  with  a 
certain  buoyancy  of  carriage  which  Lowell 
ascribed  to  athletics.  Her  eyes  were  brown, 
and  rather  serious  of  expression,  but  her 
smile  was  quick  and  natural  —  the  sort  of  a 
smile  that  brings  one  in  return,  so  Lowell 
concluded  in  his  fragmentary  process  of 
cataloguing.  Her  youth  was  the  splendid 
thing  about  her  to-day.  To-morrow  her 
strong,  resourceful  womanhood  might  be 
still  more  splendid.  Lowell  surrendered  him- 
self completely  to  the  enjoyment  of  the 
drive,  and  likewise  he  slowed  down  the  car 
another  notch. 

"Of  course,  just  getting  out  of  school,  I 
haven't  learned  so  much  about  the  inevit- 
ableness  of  life,"  said  the  girl,  harking  back 
to  Lowell's  remark  concerning  the  Indians, 
"but  I'm  beginning  to  sense  the  responsi- 
bilities now.  I  've  just  learned  that  it  was 
my  stepfather  who  kept  me  in  that  delight- 
ful school  so  many  years,  and  now  it 's  time 
for  repayment." 

"Repayment  seems  to  be  exacted  for 
everything  in  life,"  said  Lowell  automati- 


MYSTERY  RANCH  37 

cally,  though  he  was  too  much  astonished  at 
the  girl's  remark  to  tell  whether  his  reply- 
had  been  intelligible.  Was  it  possible  the 
"squaw  professor'  had  been  misjudged  all 
these  years,  and  was  living  a  life  of  sacrifice 
in  order  that  this  girl  might  have  every 
opportunity?  Lowell  had  not  recovered 
from  the  astounding  idea  before  they 
reached  Talpers's  place.  He  stopped  the 
automobile  in  front  of  the  store,  and  the 
trader  came  out. 

"Mr.  Talpers,  meet  Miss  Ervin,  daughter 
of  our  neighbor,  Mr.  Morgan,"  said  the 
agent.  'Miss  Ervin  will  probably  be  com- 
ing over  here  after  her  mail,  and  you  might 
as  well  meet  her  now." 

Talpers  bobbed  his  head,  but  not  enough 
to  break  the  stare  he  had  bent  upon  the  girl, 
who  flushed  under  his  scrutiny.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  trader  had  been  too  taken  aback 
at  the  thought  of  a  woman  —  and  a  young 
and  pretty  woman  —  being  related  to  the 
owner  of  Mystery  Ranch  to  do  more  than 
mumble  a  greeting.  Then  the  vividness  of 
the  girl's  beauty  had  slowly  worked  upon 


3  8  MYSTERY  RANCH 

him,  rendering  his  speechlessness  absolute. 

"I  don't  like  Mr.  Talpers  as  well  as  I  do 
some  of  your  Indians,"  said  the  girl,  as  they 
rolled  away  from  the  store,  leaving  the 
trader  on  the  platform,  still  staring. 

"Well,  I  don't  mind  confiding  in  you,  as 
I  've  confided  in  Bill  himself,  that  Mr.  Tal- 
pers is  something  over  ninety  per  cent  un- 
desirable. He  is  one  of  the  thorns  that 
grow  expressly  for  the  purpose  of  sticking  in 
the  side  of  Uncle  Sam.  He 's  cunning  and 
dangerous,  and  constantly  lowers  the  reser- 
vation morale,  but  he 's  over  the  line  and  I 
can't  do  a  thing  with  him  unless  I  get  him 
red-handed.  But  he's  postmaster  and  the 
only  trader  near  here,  and  you'll  have  to 
know  him,  so  I  thought  I'd  bring  out  the 
Talpers  exhibit  early." 

Helen  laughed,  and  forgot  her  momentary 
displeasure  as  the  insistent  appeal  of  the 
landscape  crowded  everything  else  from  her 
mind.  The  white  road  lay  like  a  carelessly 
flung  thread  on  the  billowing  plateau  land. 
The  air  was  crisp  with  the  magic  of  the 
upper  altitudes.   Gray  clumps  of  sagebrush 


MYSTERY  RANCH  39 

stood  forth  like  little  islands  in  the  sea  of 
grass.  A  winding  line  of  willows  told  where  a 
small  stream  lay  hidden.  The  shadows  of 
late  afternoon  were  filling  distant  hollows 
with  purple.  Remote  mountains  broke  the 
horizon  in  a  serrated  line.  Prairie  flowers 
scented  the  snow-cooled  breeze. 

They  paused  on  the  top  of  a  hill,  where,  a 
few  days  later,  a  tragedy  was  to  be  enacted. 
The  agent  said  nothing,  letting  the  pano- 
rama tell  its  own  story. 

"Oh,  it's  almost  overwhelming,"  said 
Helen  finally,  with  a  sigh.  "Sometimes  it 
all  seems  so  intimate,  and  personally 
friendly,  and  then  those  meadow-larks  stop 
singing  for  a  moment,  and  the  sun  brings 
out  the  bigness  of  everything  —  and  you  feel 
afraid,  or  at  least  I  do." 

Lowell  smiled  understandingly. 

"It  works  on  strong  men  the  same  way," 
he  said.  "That's  why  there  are  no  Indian 
tramps,  I  guess.  No  Indian  ever  went  'on 
his  own'  in  this  big  country.  The  tribes 
people  always  clung  together.  The  white 
trappers  came  and  tried  life  alone,  but  lots 


40  MYSTERY  RANCH 

of  them  went  queer  as  a  penalty.  The  cow- 
punchers  flocked  together  and  got  along  all 
right,  but  many  a  sheep-herder  who  has 
tried  it  alone  has  had  to  be  taken  in  charge 
by  his  folks.  Human  companionship  out  in 
all  those  big  spaces  is  just  as  necessary  as 
bacon,  flour,  and  salt." 

The  girl  sighed  wistfully. 

"Of  course,  I've  had  lots  of  companion- 
ship at  school,"  she  said.  "Is  there  any  one 
besides  my  stepfather  on  his  ranch?  There 
must  be,  I  imagine." 

"There's  a  Chinese  cook,  I  believe  — 
Wong,"  replied  Lowell.  "But  you  are  going 
to  find  lots  to  interest  you.  Besides,  if  you 
will  let  me  — " 

"Yes,  I'll  let  you  drive  over  real  often," 
laughed  the  girl,  as  Lowell  hesitated.  "  I  '11  be 
delighted,  and  I  know  father  will  be,  also." 

Lowell  wanted  to  turn  the  car  around  and 
head  it  away  from  the  hated  ranch  which 
was  now  so  close  at  hand.  His  heart  sank, 
and  he  became  silent  as  they  dropped  into 
the  valley  and  appoached  the  water-course, 
near  which  Willis  Morgan's  cabin  stood. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  41 

"Here 's  the  place,"  he  said  briefly,  as  he 
turned  into  a  travesty  of  a  front  yard  and 
halted  beside  a  small  cabin,  built  of  logs  and 
containing  not  more  than  three  or  four 
rooms. 

The  girl  looked  at  Lowell  in  surprise. 
Something  in  the  grim  set  of  his  jaw  told 
her  the  truth.  Pride  came  instantly  to  her 
rescue,  and  in  a  steady  voice  she  made  some 
comment  on  the  quaintness  of  the  surround- 


ings. 


There  was  no  welcome  —  not  even  the 
barking  of  a  dog.  Lowell  took  the  suitcase 
from  the  car,  and,  with  the  girl  standing  at 
his  side,  knocked  at  the  heavy  pine  door, 
which  opened  slowly.  An  Oriental  face 
peered  forth.  In  the  background  Lowell 
could  see  the  shadowy  figure  of  Willis  Mor- 
gan. The  man's  pale  face  and  gray  hair 
looked  blurred  in  the  half-light  of  the  cabin. 
He  did  not  step  to  the  door,  but  his  voice 
came,  cold  and  cutting. 

"Bring  in  the  suitcase,  Wong,"  said  Mor- 
gan. "Welcome  to  this  humble  abode, 
stepdaughter  o'  mine.   I  had  hardly  dared 


42  MYSTERY  RANCH 

hope  you  would  take  such  a  plunge  into  the 
primitive." 

The  girl  was  trying  to  voice  her  gratitude 
to  Lowell  when  Morgan's  hand  was  thrust 
forth  and  grasped  hers  and  fairly  pulled  her 
into  the  doorway.  The  door  closed,  and 
Lowell  turned  back  to  his  automobile,  with 
anger  and  pity  struggling  within  him  for 
adequate  expression. 


CHAPTER  III 

Walter  Lowell  tore  the  wrapper  of  his 
copy  of  the  "White  Lodge  Weekly  Star" 
when  the  agency  mail  was  put  on  his  desk  a 
few  days  after  the  murder  on  the  Dollar  Sign 
road. 

"I  'm  betting  Editor  Jay  Travers  cuts  into 
the  vitriol  supply  for  our  benefit  in  this  is- 
sue of  his  household  journal,"  remarked  the 
agent  to  his  chief  clerk. 

"He  won't  overlook  the  chance,"  replied 
Rogers.  "Here's  where  he  earns  a  little  of 
the  money  the  stockmen  have  been  putting 
into  his  newspaper  during  the  last  few  years.'3 

"Yes, here  it  is:  'Crime  Points  to  Indians. 
Automobile  Tourist  Killed  Near  Reserva- 
tion. Staked  Down,  Probably  by  Redskins. 
Wave  of  Horror  Sweeping  the  County  — 
Dancing  should  be  Stopped  —  Policy  of 
Coddling  Indians  —  WTiite  Settlers  not 
Safe.'  Oh,  take  it  and  read  it  in  detail!' 
And  Lowell  tossed  the  paper  to  Rogers. 


44  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"And  right  here,  where  you  'd  look  for  it 
first  thing  —  right  at  the  top  of  the  editorial 
column  —  is  a  regular  old-fashioned  Eng- 
lish leader,  calling  on  the  Government  to 
throw  open  the  reservation  to  grazing,"  said 
Rogers. 

"'The  London  'Times'  could  thunder  no 
more  strongly  in  proportion.  The  grateful 
cowmen  should  throw  at  least  another  five 
thousand  into  ye  editor's  coffers.  But,  after 
all,  what  does  it  matter?  A  dozen  news- 
papers couldn't  make  the  case  look  any 
blacker  for  the  Indians.  If  some  hot- 
headed white  man  doesn't  read  this  and  take 
a  shot  at  the  first  Indian  he  meets,  no  great 
harm  will  be  done." 

The  inquest  over  the  slain  man  had  been 
duly  held  at  White  Lodge.  The  coroner's 
jury  found  that  the  murder  had  been  done 
"by  a  person  or  persons  unknown.''  The 
telegrams  which  Lowell  had  sent  had 
brought  back  the  information  that  Edward 
B.  Sargent  was  a  retired  inventor  of  mining 
machinery  —  that  he  was  prosperous,  and 
lived  alone.   His  servants  said  he  had  de- 


MYSTERY  RANCH  45 

parted  in  an  automobile  five  days  before. 
He  had  left  no  word  as  to  his  destination, 
but  had  drawn  some  money  from  the  bank 
—  sufficient  to  cover  expenses  on  an  ex- 
tended trip.  His  servants  said  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  taking  such  trips  alone.  Generally 
he  went  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  in  his 
automobile  every  summer.  He  was  ac- 
customed to  life  in  the  open  and  generally 
carried  a  camping  outfit.  His  description 
tallied  with  that  which  had  been  sent.  He 
had  left  definite  instructions  with  a  trust 
company  about  the  disposal  of  his  fortune, 
and  about  his  burial,  in  case  of  his  death. 
Would  the  county  authorities  at  White 
Lodge  please  forward  remains  without  de- 
lay? 

While  the  inquiry  was  in  progress, Walter 
Lowell  spent  much  of  his  time  at  White 
Lodge,  and  caught  the  brunt  of  the  bitter 
feeling  against  the  Indians.  It  seemed  as  if 
at  least  three  out  of  four  residents  of  the 
county  had  mentally  tried  and  convicted 
Fire  Bear  and  his  companions. 

'And  if  there  is  one  out  of  the  four  that 


46  MYSTERY  RANCH 

hasn't  told  me  his  opinion/'  said  Lowell 
to  the  sheriff,  "it's  because  he  hasn't  been 
able  to  get  to  town." 

Sheriff  Tom  Redmond,  though  evidently 
firm  in  his  opinion  that  Indians  were  re- 
sponsible for  the  crime,  was  not  as  out- 
spoken in  his  remarks  as  he  had  been  at  the 
scene  of  the  murder.  The  county  attorney, 
Charley  Dryenforth,  a  young  lawyer  who 
had  been  much  interested  in  the  progress  of 
the  Indians,  had  counseled  less  assumption 
on  the  sheriff's  part. 

"Whoever  did  this,"  said  the  young  at- 
torney, "is  going  to  be  found,  either  here  in 
this  county  or  on  the  Indian  reservation.  It 
wasn't  any  chance  job  —  the  work  of  a  fly- 
by-night  tramp  or  yeggman.  The  Dollar 
Sign  is  too  far  off  the  main  road  to  admit 
of  that  theory.  It's  a  home  job,  and  the 
truth  will  come  out  sooner  or  later,  just  as 
Lowell  says,  and  the  only  sensible  thing  is 
to  work  with  the  agent  and  not  against  him 
—  at  least  until  he  gives  some  just  cause  for 
complaint." 

Like  the  Indian  agent,  the  attorney  had  a 


MYSTERY  RANCH  47 

complete  understanding  of  the  prejudices  in 
the  case.  There  is  always  pressure  about 
any  Indian  reservation.  White  men  look 
across  the  line  at  unfenced  acres,  and  com- 
plain bitterly  against  a  policy  that  gives 
so  much  land  to  so  few  individuals.  There 
are  constant  appeals  to  Congressmen.  New 
treaties,  which  disregard  old  covenants  as 
scraps  of  paper,  are  constantly  being  intro- 
duced. Leasing  laws  are  being  made  and 
remade  and  fought  over.  The  Indian  agent 
is  the  local  buffer  between  contending  forces. 
But,  used  as  he  was  to  unfounded  complaint 
and  criticism,  Walter  Lowell  was  hardly 
prepared  for  the  bitterness  that  descended 
upon  him  at  White  Lodge  after  the  crime  on 
the  Dollar  Sign.  Men  with  whom  he  had 
hunted  and  fished,  cattlemen  whom  he  had 
helped  on  the  round-up,  and  storekeepers 
whose  trade  he  had  swelled  to  considerable 
degree,  attempted  to  engage  in  argument 
tinged  with  acrimony.  Lowell  attempted 
to  answer  a  few  of  them  at  first,  but  saw  how 
futile  it  all  was,  and  took  refuge  in  silence. 
He  waited  until  there  was  nothing  more  for 


48  MYSTERY  RANCH 

him  to  do  at  White  Lodge,  and  then  he  went 
back  to  the  agency  to  complete  the  job  of 
forgetting  an  incredible  number  of  small 
personal  injuries. . . .  There  was  the  girl  at 
Willis  Morgan's  ranch.  Surely  she  would 
be  outside  of  all  these  wave-like  circles  of 
distrust  and  rancor.  He  intended  to  have 
gone  to  see  her  within  a  day  or  two  after  he 
had  taken  her  over  to  Morgan's,  but  some- 
thing insistent  had  come  up  at  the  agency, 
and  then  had  come  the  murder.  Well,  he 
would  go  over  right  away.  He  took  his  hat 
and  gloves  and  started  for  the  automobile, 
when  the  telephone  rang. 

"It's  Sheriff  Tom  Redmond,"  said  Ro- 
gers. "He's  coming  over  to  see  you  about 
going  out  after  Fire  Bear.  An  indictment's 
been  found,  and  he's  bringing  a  warrant 
charging  Fire  Bear  with  murder." 

Bill  Talpers  sat  behind  the  letter  cage 
that  marked  off  Uncle  Sam's  corner  of  his 
store,  and  paid  no  attention  to  the  waiting 
Indian  outside  who  wanted  a  high-crowned 
hat,  but  who  knew  better  than  to  ask  for  it. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  49 

Being  postmaster  had  brought  no  end  of 
problems  to  Bill.  This  time  it  was  a  prob- 
lem that  was  not  displeasing,  though  Mr. 
Talpers  was  not  quite  sure  as  yet  how  it 
should  be  followed  out.  The  problem  was 
contained  in  a  letter  which  Postmaster  Bill 
held  in  his  hand.  The  letter  was  open, 
though  it  was  not  addressed  to  the  man  who 
had  read  it  a  dozen  times  and  who  was  still 
considering  its  import. 

Lovingly,  Bill  once  more  looked  at  the 
address  on  the  envelope.  It  was  in  a  fem- 
inine hand  and  read: 

MR.  EDWARD  B.  SARGENT. 

The  town  that  figured  on  the  envelope 
was  Quaking-Asp  Grove,  which  was  beyond 
White  Lodge,  on  the  main  transcontinental 
highway.  Slowly  Bill  took  from  the  en- 
velope a  note  which  read: 

Dear  Uncle  and  Benefactor: 

I  have  learned  all.  Do  not  come  to  the  ranch  for 
me,  as  you  have  planned.  Evil  impends.  In  fact  I 
feel  that  he  means  to  do  you  harm.  I  plead  with 
you,  do  not  come.  It  is  the  only  way  you  can  avert 
certain  tragedy.   I  am  sending  this  by  Wong,  as  I  am 


50  MYSTERY  RANCH 

watched  closely,  though  he  pretends  to  be  looking 
out  only  for  my  welfare.  I  can  escape  in  some  way. 
I  am  not  afraid  —  only  for  you.  Again  I  plead  with 
you  not  to  come.  You  will  be  going  into  a  death- 
trap. 

Helen 


Wong,  the  factotum  from  the  Greek  Let- 
ter Ranch,  had  brought  the  letter  and  had 
duly  stamped  it  and  dropped  it  in  the  box 
for  outgoing  mail,  three  days  before  the 
murder  on  the  Dollar  Sign  road.  Wong  had 
all  the  appearance  of  a  man  frightened  and  in 
a  hurry.  Talpers  sought  to  detain  him,  but 
the  Chinese  hurried  back  to  his  old  white 
horse  and  climbed  clumsily  into  the  saddle. 

"It's  a  long  time  sence  I've  seen  that  old 
white  hoss  with  the  big  pitchfork  brand  on 
his  shoulder,"  said  Talpers.  "You  ain't 
ridin'  up  here  for  supplies  as  often  as  you 
used  to,  Wong.  Must  be  gettin'  all  your 
stuff  bv  mail-order  route.  Well,  I  ain't  sore 
about  it,  so  wait  awhile  and  have  a  little 
smoke  and  talk." 

But  WTong  had  shaken  his  head  and  de- 
parted as  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  the 


MYSTERY  RANCH  51 

ranch  as  his  limited  riding  ability  would 
permit. 

The  letter  that  Wong  had  mailed  had  not 
gone  to  its  addressed  destination.  Talpers 
had  opened  it  and  read  it,  out  of  idle  curi- 
osity, intending  to  seal  the  flap  again  and 
remail  it  if  it  proved  to  be  nothing  out  of 
the  ordinary.  But  there  were  hints  of  inter- 
esting things  in  the  letter,  and  Bill  kept  it 
a  day  or  so  for  re-reading.  Then  he  kept  it 
for  another  day  because  he  had  stuck  it  in 
his  pocket  and  all  but  forgotten  about  it. 
Afterward  came  the  murder,  with  the  name 
of  Sargent  figuring,  and  Bill  kept  the  letter 
for  various  reasons,  one  of  which  was  that 
he  did  not  know  what  else  to  do  with  it. 

"It's  too  late  for  that  feller  to  git  it  now, 
any  ways,"  was  Bill's  comfortable  philos- 
ophy. "And  if  I'd  go  and  mail  it  now, 
some  fool  inspector  might  make  it  cost 
me  my  job  as  postmaster.  Besides,  it  may 
come  useful  in  my  business  —  who  knows? ' 

The  usefulness  of  the  letter,  from  Bill's 
standpoint,  began  to  be  apparent  the  day 
after  the  murder,  when  Helen  Ervin  rode 


C2  MYSTERY  RANCH 

up  to  the  store  on.  the  white  horse  which 
Wong  had  graced.  The  girl  rode  well.  She 
was  hatless  and  dressed  in  a  neat  riding- 
suit  —  the  conventional  attire  of  her  class- 
mates  who  had  gorie  in  for  riding-lessons. 
Her  riding-clothes  were  the  first  thing  she 
had  packed,  on  leaving  San  Francisco,  as 
the  very  word  "ranch"  had  suggested  de- 
lightful excursions  in  the  saddle. 

Two  or  three  Indians  sat  stolidly  on  the 
porch  as  Helen  rode  up.  She  had  learned 
that  the  old  horse  was  not  given  to  running 
away.  He  might  roll,  to  rid  himself  of  the 
flies,  but  he  was  not  even  likely  to  do  that 
with  the  saddle  on,  so  Helen  did  not  trouble 
to  tie  him  to  the  rack.  She  let  the  reins 
drop  to  the  ground  and  walked  past  the  In- 
dians into  the  store,  where  Bill  Talpers  was 
watching  her  greedily  from  behind  his  post- 
master's desk. 

y 

:You  are  postmaster  heifc,  Mr.  Talpers, 
aren't  you?'  asked  Helen,  with  a  slight 
acknowledgment  of  the  trader's  greeting. 

Bill  admitted  that  Uncle  Sam  had  so 
honored  him. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  S3 

"I'm  looking  for  a  letter  that  was  mailed 
here  by  Wong,  and  should  be  back  from 
Quaking-Asp  Grove  by  this  time.  It  had  a 
return  address  on  it,  and  I  understand  the 
person  to  whom  it  was  sent  did  not  receive 
it." 

Talpers  leaned  forward  mysteriously  and 
fixed  his  animal-like  gaze  on  Helen. 

"I  know  why  he  didn't  git  it,"  said  Bill. 
"He  did  n't  git  it  because  he  was  murdered.'' 

Helen  turned  white,  and  her  riding-whip 
ceased  its  tattoo  on  her  boot.  She  grasped 
at  the  edge  of  the  counter  for  support,  and 
Bill  smiled  triumphantly.  He  had  played 
a  big  card  and  won,  and  now  he  was  going 
to  let  this  girl  know  who  was  master. 

"There  ain't  no  use  of  your  feelin'  cut 
up,"  he  went  on.  "If  you  and  me  jest  un- 
derstand each  other  right,  there  ain't  no 
reason  why  any  one  else  should  know  about 
that  letter." 

'You  held  it  up  and  it  never  reached 

Quaking- Asp    Grove!"    exclaimed    Helen. 

You're  the  real  murderer.   I  can  have  you 

put  in  prison  for  tampering  with  the  mails.'3 


54  MYSTERY  RANCH 

The  last  shot  did  not  make  Bill  blink. 
He  had  been  looking  for  it. 

"  Ye-es,  you  might  have  me  put  in  prison. 
I  admit  that,'3  he  said,  stroking  his  sparse 
black  beard,  "but  you  ain't  goin'  to,  because 
I  'd  feel  in  duty  bound  to  say  that  I  jest  held 
up  the  letter  in  the  interests  of  justice,  and 
turn  the  hull  thing  over  to  the  authorities. 
Old  Fussbudget  Tom  Redmond  is  jest  achin' 
to  make  an  arrest  in  this  case.  He  wants  to 
throw  the  hull  Injun  reservation  in  jail,  but 
he  'd  jest  as  soon  switch  to  a  white  person,  if 
confronted  with  the  proper  evidence.  Now 
this  here  letter" — and  here  Bill  took  the 
missive  from  his  pocket  —  "looks  to  me  like 
air-tight,  iron-bound,  copper-riveted  sort 
of  testimony  that  says  its  own  say.  Tom 
could  n't  help  but  act  on  it,  and  act 
quick." 

Helen  looked  about  despairingly.  The 
Indians  sat  like  statues  on  the  porch.  They 
had  not  even  turned  their  heads  to  observe 
what  was  going  on  inside  the  store.  The 
old  white  horse  was  switching  and  stamping 
and  shuddering  in  his  constant  and  futile 


MYSTERY  RANCH  55 

battle  against  flies.   Beyond  the  road  was 
silence  and  prairie. 

Turning  toward  the  trader,  Helen  thought 
to  start  in  on  a  plea  for  mercy,  but  one  look 
into  Talpers's  face  made  her  change  her 
mind.  Anger  set  her  heart  beating  tumult- 
uously.  She  snatched  at  the  letter  in  the 
trader's  hand,  but  Bill  merely  caught  her 
wrist  in  his  big  fingers.  Swinging  the 
riding-whip  with  all  her  strength,  she  struck 
Talpers  across  the  face  again  and  again,  but 
he  only  laughed,  and  finally  wrenched  the 
whip  away  from  her  and  threw  it  out  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor.  Then  he  released  her 
wrist. 

"You've  got  lots  o'  spunk,"  said  Bill, 
coming  out  from  behind  the  counter,  "but 
that  ain't  goin'  to  git  you  anywheres  in  per- 
tic'ler  in  a  case  like  this.  You'd  better  set 
down  on  that  stool  and  think  things  over 
and  act  more  human." 

Helen  realized  the  truth  of  Talpers's 
words.  Anger  was  not  going  to  get  her  any- 
where. The  black  events  of  recent  hours  had 
brought  out  resourcefulness  which  she  never 


$6  MYSTERY  RANCH 

suspected  herself  of  having.  Fortunately 
Miss  Scovill  had  been  the  sort  to  teach  her 
something  of  the  realities  of  life.  The  Sco- 
vill School  for  Girls  might  have  had  a  larger 
fashionable  patronage  if  it  had  turned  out 
more  graduates  of  the  clinging- vine  type  of 
femininity  instead  of  putting  independence 
of  thought  and  action  as  among  the  first 
requisites. 

"That  letter  does  n't  amount  to  so  much 
as  you  think,"  said  Helen;  "and,  anyway, 
suppose  I  swear  on  the  stand  that  I  never 
wrote  it?" 

"You  ain't  the  kind  to  swear  to  a  lie," 
replied  Bill,  and  Helen  flushed.  "Besides, 
it 's  in  your  writin',  and  your  name 's  there, 
and  your  Chinaman  brought  it  here.  You 
can't  git  around  them  things." 

"Suppose  I  tell  my  stepfather  and  he 
comes  here  and  takes  the  letter  away  from 
you?" 

Talpers  sneered. 

"He  couldn't  git  that  letter  away  from 
me,  onless  we  put  it  up  as  a  prize  in  a  Greek- 
slingin'  contest.    Besides,  he's  too  ornerv 


MYSTERY  RANCH  57 

to  help  out  even  his  own  kin.  Why,  I  ain't 
one  tenth  as  bad  as  that  stepfather  of  yourn. 
He  just  talked  poison  into  the  ears  of  that 
Injun  wife  of  his  until  she  died.  I  guess 
mebbe  by  your  looks  you  did  n't  know  he 
had  an  Injun  wife,  but  he  did.  Since  she 
died  —  killed  by  inches  —  he 's  had  that 
Chinaman  doin'  the  work  around  the 
ranch-house.  I  guess  he  can't  make  a  dent 
on  the  Chinese  disposition,  or  he'd  have 
had  Wong  dead  before  this.  If  you  stay 
there  any  time  at  all,  he'll  have  you  in  an 
insane  asylum  or  the  grave.  That's  jest 
the  nature  of  the  beast." 

Talpers  was  waxing  eloquent,  because  it 
had  come  to  him  that  his  one  great  mission 
in  life  was  to  protect  this  fine-looking  girl 
from  the  cruelty  of  her  stepfather.  An  in- 
explicable feeling  crept  into  his  heart  ■ — • 
the  first  kindly  feeling  he  had  ever  known. 

"It's  a  dum  shame  you  did  n't  have  any 
real  friends  like  me  to  warn  you  off  before 
you  hit  that  ranch,"  went  on  Bill.  "That 
young  agent  who  drove  you  over  ought  to 
have  told  you,  but  all  he  can  think  of  is 


58  MYSTERY  RANCH 

pro  tec  tin5  Injuns.  Now  with  me  it's  dif- 
ferent. I  like  Injuns  all  right,  but  white 
folks  comes  first  —  especially  folks  that  I  'm 
interested  in.    Now  you  and  me  — " 

Helen  picked  up  her  riding-whip. 

"I  can't  hear  any  more  to-day,"  she  said. 

Talpers  followed  her  through  the  door 
and  out  on  the  porch. 

"All  right,"  he  remarked  propitiatingly. 
"This  letter '11  keep,  but  mebbe  not  very 
long." 

In  spite  of  her  protests,  he  turned  the 
horse  around  for  her,  and  held  her  stir- 
rup while  she  mounted.  His  solicitousness 
alarmed  her  more  than  positive  enmity  on 
his  part. 

"By  gosh!  you're  some  fine-lookin'  girl," 
he  said  admiringly,  his  gaze  sweeping  over 
her  neatly  clad  figure.  "There  ain't  ever 
been  a  ridin'-rig  like  that  in  these  parts.  I 
sure  get  sick  of  seein'  these  squaws  bobbin' 
along  on  their  ponies.  There's  lots  of 
women  around  here  that  can  ride,  but  I 
never  knowed  before  that  the  clothes 
counted  so  much.   Now  you  and  me  — ' 


MYSTERY  RANCH  59 

Helen  struck  the  white  horse  with  her 
whip.  As  if  by  accident,  the  lash  whistled 
close  to  Bill  Talpers's  face,  making  him 
give  back  a  step  in  surprise.  As  the  girl 
rode  away,  Talpers  looked  after  her,  grin- 
ning. 

"Some  spirited  girl,"  he  remarked.  "And 
I  sure  like  spirit.  But  mebbe  this  letter  I  've 
got  '11  keep  her  tamed  down  a  little.  Hey, 
you  Bear-in-the-Cloud  and  Red  Star  and 
Crane  —  you  educated  sons  o'  guns  settin' 
around  here  as  if  you  did  n't  know  a  word  of 
English  —  there  ain't  any  spirits  fermenti 
on  tap  to-day,  not  a  drop.  It's  gettin' 
scarce  and  the  price  is  goin'  higher.  Clear 
out  and  wait  till  Jim  McFann  comes  in  to- 
morrow. He  may  be  able  to  find  somethin' 
that'l}  cheer  you  up!" 


CHAPTER  IV 

Sheriff  Tom  Redmond  was  a  veteran  of 
many  ancient  cattle  trails.  He  had  traveled 
as  many  times  from  Texas  to  the  Dodge 
City  and  Abilene  points  of  shipment  as 
some  of  our  travelers  to-day  have  journeyed 
across  the  Atlantic  —  and  he  thought  just 
as  little  about  it.  More  than  once  he  had 
made  the  trifling  journey  from  the  Rio 
Grande  to  Montana,  before  the  inventive 
individual  who  supplied  fences  with  teeth 
had  made  such  excursions  impossible.  Sher- 
iff Tom  had  seen  many  war-bonneted  Indi- 
ans looming  through  the  dust  of  trail  herds. 
Of  the  better  side  of  the  Indian  he  knew 
little,  nor  cared  to  learn.  But  at  one  time 
or  another  he  had  had  trouble  with  Apache, 
Comanche,  Kiowa,  Ute,  Pawnee,  Arapahoe, 
Cheyenne,  and  Sioux.  He  could  tell  just 
how  many  steers  each  tribe  had  cost  his 
employers,  and  how  many  horses  were  still 
charged  off  against  Indians  in  general. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  61 

"I  admit  some  small  prejudice/5  said 
Sheriff  Tom  in  the  course  of  one  of  his 
numerous  arguments  with  Walter  Lowell. 
"When  I  see  old  Crane  hanging  around 
Bill  Talpers's  store,  he  looks  to  me  jest  like 
the  cussed  Comanche  that  rose  right  out  of 
nowheres  and  scared  me  gray-headed  when 
I  was  riding  along  all  peaceful-like  on  the 
Picketwire.  And  that's  the  way  it  goes. 
Every  Injun  I  see,  big  or  little,  resembles 
some  redskin  I  had  trouble  with,  back  in 
early  days.  The  only  thing  I  can  think  of 
'em  doing  is  shaking  buffalo  robes  and  run- 
ning off  live  stock  —  not  raising  steers  to 
sell.  I  admit  I  'm  behind  the  procession.  I 
ain't  ready  yet  to  take  my  theology  or  my 
false  teeth  from  an  Injun  preacher  or  den- 
tist." 

Lowell  preferred  Sheriff  Tom's  outspoken- 
ness to  other  forms  of  opposition  and  criti- 
cism which  were  harder  to  meet. 

"Some  day,"  he  said  to  the  sheriff,  "y°u 
'11  fall  in  line,  but  meantime  if  you  can  get 
rid  of  a  pest  like  Bill  Talpers  for  me,  you'll 
do  more  for  the  Indians  than  they  could 


62  MYSTERY  RANCH 

get  out  of  all  the  new  leases  that  might  be 
written." 

"I've  been  working  on  Bill  Talpers  now 
for  ten  years  and  I  ain't  been  able  to  git 
him  to  stick  foot  in  a  trap,"  was  the  sheriff's 
reply.  "But  I  think  he's  getting  to  a  point 
where  he's  all  vain-like  over  the  cunning 
he's  shown,  and  he'll  cash  himself  in,  hoss 
and  beaver,  when  he  ain't  expecting  to.'3 

When  the  sheriff  arrived  at  the  agency, 
with  the  warrant  for  Fire  Bear  in  his 
pocket,  he  found  a  string  of  saddle  and  pack 
animals  tied  in  front  of  the  office,  under 
charge  of  two  of  the  best  cowmen  on  the 
reservation,  White  Man  Walks  and  Many 
Coups. 

"I'll  have  your  car  put  in  with  mine, 
Tom,"  said  Lowell,  who  was  dressed  in 
cowpuncher  attire,  even  to  leather  chapa- 
rejos.  "I  know  you're  always  prepared  for 
riding.  There 's  a  saddle  horse  out  there  for 
you.  We've  some  grub  and  a  tent  and 
plenty  of  bedding,  as  we  may  be  out  several 
days  and  find  some  rough  going." 

"I  judge  it  ain't  going  to  be  any  moon^ 


MYSTERY  RANCH  63 

light  excursion  on  the  Hudson,  then,  bring- 
ing in  this  Injun,"  observed  Redmond. 

Lowell  motioned  to  the  sheriff  to  step 
into  the  private  office. 

"Affairs  are  a  little  complicated/3  said 
the  agent,  closing  the  door.  "Plenty  Buf- 
falo has  turned  up  something  that  makes  it 
look  as  if  Jim  McFann  may  know  something 
about  the  murder." 

"What's  Plenty  Buffalo  found?" 

"He  discovered  a  track  made  by  a  broken 
shoe  in  that  conglomeration  of  hoof  marks 
at  the  scene  of  the  murder." 

"Why  did  n't  he  say  so  at  the  time?" 

"Because  he  wasn't  sure  that  it  pointed 
to  Jim  McFann.  But  he'd  been  trailing 
McFann  for  bootlegging  and  was  pretty 
sure  Jim  was  riding  a  horse  with  a  broken 
shoe.  He  got  hold  of  an  Indian  we  can 
trust  —  an  Indian  who  stands  pretty  well 
with  McFann  —  and  had  him  hunt  till  he 
found  Jim." 

"Where  was  he?" 

"McFann  was  hiding  away  up  in  the  big 
hills.   What  made  him  light  out  there  no 


64  MYSTERY  RANCH 

one  knows.  That  looked  bad  on  the  face 
of  it.  Then  this  Indian  scout  of  ours,  when 
he  happened  in  on  Jim's  camp,  found  that 
McFann  was  riding  a  horse  with  a  broken 
shoe." 

"Looks  as  if  we  ought  to  bring  in  the 
half-breed,  don't  it?" 

"Wait  a  minute.  The  broken  shoe  isn't 
all.  Those  pieces  of  rope  that  were  used  to 
tie  that  man  to  the  stakes  —  they  were  cut 
from  a  rawhide  lariat." 

"And  Jim  McFann  uses  that  kind?" 

"Yes." 

"Do  you  know  where  McFann  is  hanging 
out?" 

"He  may  have  moved  camp,  but  we  can 
find  him." 

The  sheriff  frowned.  Matters  were  get- 
ting more  complicated  than  he  had  thought 
possible.  From  the  first  he  had  entertained 
only  one  idea  concerning  the  murder  — 
that  Fire  Bear  had  done  the  work,  or  that 
some  of  the  reckless  spirits  under  the  re- 
bellious youth  had  slain  in  a  moment  of 
bravado. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  65 

"Well,  it  may  be  that  McFann  and  Fire 
Bear's  crowd  had  throwed  in  together  and 
was  all  mixed  up  in  the  killing/5  remarked 
the  sheriff.  "A  John  Doe  warrant  ought  to 
be  enough  to  get  everybody  we  want.'1 

'We  can  get  anybody  that's  wanted,'3 
said  Lowell,  "but  you  must  remember  one 
thing  —  you  're  dealing  with  people  who  are 
not  used  to  legal  procedure  and  who  may 
resent  wholesale  arrests." 

"You'll  take  plenty  of  Injun  police  along, 
I  suppose." 

"No  —  I 'm  not  even  going  to  take  Plenty 
Buffalo.  The  whole  police  force  and  all  the 
deputies  you  might  be  able  to  swear  in  in  a 
week  could  n't  bring  in  Fire  Bear  if  he  gave 
the  signal  to  the  young  fellows  around  him. 
We're  going  alone,  except  for  those  two 
Indians  out  there,  who  will  just  look  after 
camp  affairs  for  us." 

"I  dunno  but  you're  right,"  observed 
Redmond  after  a  pause,  during  which  he 
keenly  scrutinized  the  young  agent's  face. 
"Anyway,  I  ain't  going  to  let  it  be  said  that 
you've  got  more  nerve  than  I  have.    Let 


66  MYSTERY  RANCH 

the  lead  hoss  go  where  he  chooses  —  I  '11 
follow  the  bell." 

"Another  thing,"  said  Lowell.  "You're 
on  an  Indian  reservation.  These  Indians 
have  been  looking  to  me  for  advice  and 
other  things  in  the  last  four  years.  If  it 
comes  to  a  point  where  decisive  action  has 
to  be  taken  — " 

"You're  the  one  to  take  it,"  interrupted 
the  sheriff.  "From  now  on  it 's  your  funeral. 
I  don't  care  what  methods  you  use,  so  long 
as  I  git  Fire  Bear,  and  mebbe  this  half- 
breed,  behind  the  bars  for  a  hearing  down 
at  White  Lodge." 

The  men  walked  out  of  the  office,  and  the 
sheriff  was  given  his  mount.  The  Indians 
swung  the  pack-horses  into  line,  and  the 
men  settled  themselves  in  their  saddles  as 
they  began  the  long,  plodding  journey  to 
the  blue  hills  in  the  heart  of  the  reservation. 

The  lodges  of  Fire  Bear  and  his  followers 
were  placed  in  a  circle,  in  a  grove  somber 
enough  for  Druidical  sacrifice.  White  cliffs 
stretched  high  above  the  camp,  with  pine- 


MYSTERY  RANCH  67 

trees  growing  at  all  angles  from  the  inter- 
stices of  rock.  At  the  foot  of  the  cliffs,  and 
on  the  green  slope  that  stretched  far  below 
to  the  forest  of  lodgepole  pines,  stood  many 
conical,  tent-like  formations  of  rock.  They 
were  even  whiter  than  the  canvas  tepees 
which  were  grouped  in  front  of  them.  At 
any  time  of  the  day  these  formations  were 
uncanny.  In  time  of  morning  or  evening 
shadow  the  effect  upon  the  imagination  was 
intensified.  The  strange  outcropping  was 
repeated  nowhere  else.  It  jutted  forth, 
white  and  mysterious  —  a  monstrous  tent- 
ing-ground  left  over  from  the  Stone  Age. 
As  if  to  deepen  the  effect  of  the  weird  stage 
setting,  Nature  contrived  that  all  the  winds 
which  blew  here  should  blow  mournfully. 
The  lighter  breezes  stirred  vague  whisper- 
ings in  the  pine-trees.  The  heavy  winds 
wrought  weird  noises  which  echoed  from 
the  cliffs. 

Lowell  had  looked  upon  the  Camp  of  the 
Stone  Tepees  once  before.  There  had  been 
a  chase  for  a  cattle  thief.  It  was  thought  he 
had  hidden  somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  the 


68  MYSTERY  RANCH 

white  semicircle,  but  he  had  not  been  found 
there,  because  no  man  in  fear  of  pursuit 
could  dwell  more  than  a  night  in  so  ghostly 
a  place  of  solitude. 

It  had  been  late  evening  when  Lowell  had 
first  seen  the  Camp  of  the  Stone  Tepees. 
He  remembered  the  half-expectant  way  in 
which  he  had  paused,  thinking  to  see  a 
white-clad  priest  emerge  from  one  of  the 
shadowy  stone  tents  and  place  a  human  vic- 
tim upon  one  of  the  sacrificial  tablets  in  the 
open  glade.  It  was  early  morning  when 
Lowell  looked  on  the  scene  a  second  time. 
He  and  the  sheriff  had  made  a  daylight 
start,  leaving  the  Indians  to  follow  with  the 
pack-horses.  It  was  a  long  climb  up  the 
slopes,  among  the  pines,  from  the  plains 
below.  The  trail,  for  the  greater  part  of  the 
way,  had  followed  a  stream  which  was  none 
too  easy  fording  at  the  best,  and  which  regu- 
larly rose  several  inches  every  afternoon 
owing  to  the  daily  melting  of  late  snows  in 
the  mountain  heights.  It  was  necessary  to 
cross  and  recross  the  stream  many  times. 
Occasionally    the    horses    floundered    over 


MYSTERY  RANCH  69 

smooth  rocks  and  were  nearly  carried  away. 
All  four  men  were  wet  to  the  waist.  Red- 
mond, with  memories  of  countless  wider 
and  more  treacherous  fords  crowding  upon 
him,  merely  jested  at  each  new  buffeting  in 
the  stream.  The  Indians  were  concerned 
only  lest  some  pack-animal  should  fall  in 
midstream.  Lowell,  a  good  horseman  and 
tireless  mountaineer,  counted  physical  dis- 
comfort as  nothing  when  such  vistas  of  de- 
light were  being  opened  up. 

The  giant  horseshoe  in  the  cliffs  was  in 
semi-darkness  when  they  came  in  sight  of  it. 
Lowell  was  in  the  lead,  and  he  turned  his 
horse  and  motioned  to  the  sheriff  to  remain 
hidden  in  the  trees  that  skirted  the  glade. 
The  voice  of  a  solitary  Indian  was  flung 
back  and  forth  in  the  curve  of  the  cliffs.  His 
back  was  toward  the  white  men.  If  he  heard 
them,  he  made  no  sign.  He  was  wrapped  in 
a  blanket,  from  shoulders  to  heels,  and  was 
in  the  midst  of  a  long  incantation,  flung  at 
the  beetling  walls  with  their  foot  fringe  of 
stone  tents.  The  tepees  of  the  Indians  were 
hardly    distinguishable    from   those   which 


70  MYSTERY  RANCH 

Nature  had  pitched  on  this  world-old  camp- 
ing-ground. No  sound  came  from  the  tents 
of  the  Indians.  Probably  the  "big  medi- 
cine" of  the  Indian  was  being  listened  to, 
but  those  who  heard  made  no  sign. 

"  It 's  Fire  Bear,"  said  Lowell,  as  the  voice 
went  on  and  the  echoes  fluttered  back  from 
the  cliffs. 

"He's  sure  making  big  medicine/3  re- 
marked the  sheriff.  "They've  picked  one 
grand  place  for  a  camp.  By  the  Lord!  it 
even  sort  of  gave  me  the  shivers  when  I  first 
looked  at  it.  What '11  we  do?" 

"Wait  till  he  gets  through,"  cautioned 
Lowell.  "They'd  come  buzzing  out  of  those 
tents  like  hornets  if  we  broke  in  now,  in  all 
probability." 

The  sheriff's  face  hardened. 

"Jest  the  same,  that  sort  of  thing  ought 
to  be  stopped  —  all  of  it,"  he  said. 

"Do  you  stop  every  fellow  that  mounts  a 
soap  box,  or,  what's  more  likely,  stands  up 
on  a  street  corner  in  an  automobile  and 
makes  a  Socialist  speech?' 

"No  —  but  that's  different." 


MYSTERY  RANCH  71 

"Why  is  it?  An  Indian  reservation  is 
just  like  a  little  nation.  It  has  its  steady- 
goers,  and  it  has  its  share  of  the  shiftless, 
and  also  it  has  an  occasional  Socialist,  and 
once  in  a  while  a  rip-snorting  Anarchist. 
Fire  Bear  does  n't  know  just  what  he  is  yet. 
He's  made  some  pretty  big  medicine  and 
made  some  prophecies  that  have  come  true 
and  have  gained  him  a  lot  of  followers,  but 
I  can't  see  that  it's  up  to  me  to  stop  him. 
Not  that  I  have  any  cause  to  love  that  In- 
dian over  there  in  that  blanket.  He's  been 
the  cause  of  a  lot  of  trouble.  He's  young 
and  arrogant.  In  a  big  city  he  would  be 
a  gang-leader.  The  police  and  the  courts 
would  find  him  a  problem  —  and  he's  just 
as  much,  or  perhaps  more,  of  a  problem  out 
here  in  the  wilds  than  he  would  be  in  town." 

The  sheriff  made  no  reply,  but  watched 
Fire  Bear  narrowlv.  Soon  the  Indian  ended 
his  incantations,  and  the  tents  of  his  follow- 
ers began  opening  and  blanketed  figures 
came  forth.  Lowell  and  the  sheriff  stepped 
out  into  the  glade  and  walked  toward  the 
camp.    The    Indians   grouped    themselves 


72  MYSTERY  RANCH 

about  Fire  Bear.  There  was  something  of 
defiance  in  their  attitude,  but  the  white  men 
walked  on  unconcernedly,  and,  without  any 
preliminaries,  Lowell  told  Fire  Bear  the  ob- 
ject of  their  errand. 

"You're  suspected  of  murdering  that 
white  man  on  the  Dollar  Sign  road,'2  said 
Lowell.  c  You  and  these  young  fellows  with 
you  were  around  there.  Now  you  're  wanted, 
to  go  to  White  Lodge  and  tell  the  court  just 
what  you  know  about  things." 

Fire  Bear  was  one  of  the  best-educated  of 
the  younger  generation  of  Indians.  He  had 
carried  off  honors  at  an  Eastern  school,  both 
in  his  studies  and  athletics.  But  his  haunts 
had  been  the  traders'  stores  when  he  re- 
turned to  the  reservation.  Then  he  became 
possessed  of  the  idea  that  he  was  a  medi- 
cine man.  Fervor  burned  in  his  veins  and 
fired  his  speech.  The  young  fellows  who 
had  idled  with  him  became  his  zealots.  He 
began  making  prophecies  which  mysteri- 
ously worked  out.  He  had  prophesied  a 
flood,  and  one  came,  sweeping  away  many 
lodges.  When  he  and  his  followers  were  out 


MYSTERY  RANCH  73 

of  food,  he  had  prophesied  that  plenty 
would  come  to  them  that  day.  It  so  hap- 
pened that  lightning  that  morning  struck 
the  trace  chain  on  a  load  of  wood  that  was 
being  hauled  down  the  mountain-side  by 
a  white  leaser.  The  four  oxen  drawing  the 
load  were  killed,  and  the  white  man  gave 
the  beef  to  the  Indians,  on  condition  that 
they  would  remove  the  hides  for  him.  This 
had  sent  Fire  Bear's  stock  soaring  and  had 
gained  many  recruits  for  his  camp  —  even 
some  of  the  older  Indians  joining. 

Lowell  had  treated  Fire  Bear  lenientlv  — 
too  lenientlv  most  of  the  white  men  near  the 
reservation  had  considered.  With  the  In- 
dians' religious  ceremonials  had  gone  the 
usual  dancing.  An  inspector  from  Washing- 
ton had  sent  in  a  recommendation  that  the 
dancing  be  stopped  at  once.  Lowell  had 
received  several  broad  hints,  following  the 
inspector's  letter,  but  he  was  waiting  an 
imperative  order  before  stopping  the  danc- 
ing, because  he  knew  that  any  high-handed 
interference  just  then  would  undo  an  in- 
calculable amount  of  his  painstaking  work 


74  MYSTERY  RANCH 

with  the  Indians.  He  had  figured  that  he 
could  work  personally  with  Fire  Bear  after 
the  young  medicine  man's  first  ardor  in  his 
new  calling  had  somewhat  cooled.  Then 
had  come  the  murder,  with  everything 
pointing  to  the  implication  of  the  young 
Indian,  and  with  consequent  action  forced 
on  the  agent. 

A  threatening  circle  surrounded  the  white 
men  in  Fire  Rear's  camp. 

' '  Why  did  n't  you  bring  the  Indian  police  to 
arrest  me?  "  asked  the  young  Indian  leader. 

"Because  I  thought  you'd  see  things  in 
their  right  light  and  come,"  said  Lowell. 

Fire  Bear  thought  a  moment. 

"Well,  because  you  did  not  bring  the 
police,  I  will  go  with  you,"  he  said,  i 

"You  don't  have  to  tell  us  anything  that 
might  be  used  against  you,"  said  the  sheriff. 

Fire  Bear  smiled  bitterly. 

"I've  studied  white  man's  law,"  he  said. 

Redmond  rubbed  his  head  in  bewilder- 
ment. Such  words,  coming  from  a  blank- 
eted Indian,  in  such  primitive  surround- 
ings, passed  his  comprehension.  Yet  Lowell 


MYSTERY  RANCH  75 

thought,  as  he  smiled  at  the  sheriff's  amaze- 
ment, that  it  merely  emphasized  the  queer 
jumble  of  old  and  new  on  every  reservation. 

"I'll  ask  you  to  wait  for  me  out  there  in 
the  trees,"  said  Fire  Bear. 

Redmond  hesitated,  but  the  agent  turned 
at  once  and  walked  away,  and  the  sheriff 
finally  followed.  Fire  Bear  exhorted  his  fol- 
lowers a  few  moments,  and  then  disap- 
peared in  his  tent.  Soon  he  came  out, 
dressed  in  the  "store  clothes"  of  the  ordi- 
nary Indian.  He  joined  Redmond  and  the 
agent  at  the  edge  of  the  glade,  and  they 
made  their  way  toward  the  creek,  no  one 
venturing  to  follow  from  the  camp.  At 
the  bottom  of  the  slope  they  found  the 
Indian  helpers  with  the  horses. 

"Fire  Bear,"  said  Lowell,  as  they  paused 
before  starting  out,  "there's  one  thing  more 
I  want  of  you.  Help  us  to  find  Jim  Mc- 
Fann.  He's  as  deep  or  deeper  in  this  thing 
than  you  are/' 

"I  know  he  is,"  replied  Fire  Bear,  "but 
it  was  n't  for  me  to  say  so.  I  '11  help  find  him 
for  you." 


76  MYSTERY  RANCH 

They  had  to  fight  to  get  Jim  McFann. 
They  found  the  half-breed  cooking  some 
bacon  over  a  tiny  fire,  at  the  head  of  a  gulch 
that  was  just  made  for  human  concealment. 
If  it  had  not  been  for  the  good  offices  of  Fire 
Bear  on  the  trail,  they  might  have  hunted 
a  week  for  their  man.  McFann  had  moved 
camp  several  times  since  Plenty  Buffalo  had 
located  him.  Each  time  he  had  covered  his 
tracks  with  surpassing  care. 

Lowell,  according  to  prearranged  plan, 
had  walked  in  upon  McFann,  with  Red- 
mond covering  the  half-breed,  ready  to 
shoot  in  case  a  weapon  was  drawn.  But 
McFann  merely  made  a  headlong  dive  for 
Lowell's  legs,  and  there  was  a  rough-and- 
tumble  fight  about  the  camp-fire  which  was 
settled  only  when  the  agent  managed  to  get 
a  lock  on  his  wiry  opponent  which  pinned 
McFann's  back  to  the  ground. 

"You  wouldn't  fight  that  hard  if  you 
thought  you  was  being  yanked  up  for  a  little 
bootlegging,  Jim,"  mused  Tom  Redmond, 
pulling  his  long  mustache.  "You  know 
what  we've  come  after  you  for,  don't  you? ' 


MYSTERY  RANCH  77 

McFann  threshed  about  in  another  futile 
attempt  to  escape,  and  cursed  his  captors 
with  gifts  of  expletive  which  came  from  two 
races. 

"It's  on  account  of  that  tenderfoot  that 
was  found  on  the  Dollar  Sign,"  growled  Jim, 
"but  Fire  Bear  and  his  gang  can't  tell  any 
more  on  me  than  I  can  on  them." 

"That's  the  way  to  get  at  the  truth,'3 
chuckled  the  sheriff  triumphantly.  "I  guess 
by  the  time  you  fellers  are  through  with 
each  other  we'll  know  who  shot  that  man 
and  staked  him  down." 


CHAPTER  V 

On  the  day  following  the  incarceration  of 
Fire  Bear  and  Jim  McFann,  Lowell  rode 
over  to  the  scene  of  the  murder  on  the  Dol- 
lar Sign  road. 

It  seemed  to  the  agent  as  if  a  fresh  start 
from  the  very  beginning  would  do  more 
than  anything  else  to  put  him  on  the  trail 
of  a  solution  of  the  mystery. 

Lowell  was  not  inclined  to  accept  Red- 
mond's comfortable  theory  that  either  Fire 
Bear  or  Jim  McFann  was  guilty  —  or  that 
both  were  equally  deep  in  the  crime.  Nor 
did  he  assume  that  these  men  were  not 
guilty.  It  was  merely  that  there  were  some 
aspects  of  the  case  which  did  not  seem 
to  him  entirely  convincing.  Circumstantial 
evidence  pointed  strongly  to  Fire  Bear  and 
the  half-breed,  and  this  evidence  might 
prove  all  that  was  necessary  to  fasten  the 
crime  upon  the  prisoners.  In  fact  Redmond 
was  so  confident  that  he  prophesied  a  con- 


MYSTERY  RANCH  79 

fession  from  one  or  both  of  the  men  before 
the  time  arrived  for  their  hearing  in  court. 

As  Lowell  approached  Talpers's  store,  the 
trader  came  out  and  hailed  him. 

"I  hear  Redmond's  arrested  Fire  Bear 
and  Jim  McFann,"  said  Talpers. 

"Yes." 

"Well,  as  far  as  public  opinion  goes,  I 
s'pose  Tom  has  hit  the  nail  on  the  head,'3 
observed  Bill.  "There's  some  talk  right 
now  about  lynchin'  the  prisoners.  Folks 
wouldn't  talk  that  way  unless  the  arrest 
was  pretty  popular." 

"That's  Tom  Redmond's  lookout.  He 
will  have  to  guard  against  a  lynching." 

Talpers  stroked  his  beard  and  smiled  re- 
flectively. Evidently  he  had  something  on 
his  mind.  His  attitude  was  that  of  a  man 
concealing  something  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance. 

"There's  one  thing  sure,"  went  on  Bill. 
"Jim  McFann  ain't  any  more  guilty  of  a 
hand  in  that  murder  than  if  he  was  n't  within 
a  thousand  miles  of  the  Dollar  Sign  when 
the  thing  happened." 


1  80  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"That  will  have  to  be  proved  in  court." 

"Well,  as  far  as  McFann  's  concerned  I 
know  Redmond 's  barkin'  up  the  wrong 
tree." 

"How  do  you  know  it?" 

Talpers  made  a  deprecating  motion. 

'Of  course  I  don't  know  it  absolutely. 
It's  jest  what  I  feel,  from  bein'  as  well  ac- 
quainted with  Jim  as  I  am." 

"Yes,  you  and  Jim  are  tolerably  close  to 
each  other  —  everybody  knows  that.52 

Talpers  shot  a  suspicious  glance  at  the 
agent,  and  then  he  reassumed  his  mysterious 
grin. 

"Where  you  goin'  now?"  he  asked. 

"Just  up  on  the  hill." 

"I've  been  back  there  a  couple  of  times," 
sneered  Bill,  "but  I  couldn't  find  no  notes 
dropped  by  the  murderer." 

"Well,  there's  just  one  thing  that's  plain 
enough  now,  Talpers,'2  said  Lowell  grimly, 
as  he  released  his  brakes.  "While  Jim 
McFann  is  in  jail  a  lot  of  Indians  are  going 
to  be  thirsty,  and  your  receipts  for  whiskey 
are  not  going  to  be  so  big." 


MYSTERY  RANCH  81 

<  Talpers  scowled  angrily  and  stepped 
toward  the  agent.  Lowell  sat  calmly  in  the 
car,  watching  him  unconcernedly.  Then 
Talpers  suddenly  turned  and  walked  toward 
the  store,  and  the  agent  started  his  motor 
and  glided  away. 

Bill's  ugly  scowl  did  not  fade  as  he 
stalked  into  his  store.  Lowell's  last  shot 
about  the  bootlegging  had  gone  home.  Tal- 
pers had  had  more  opposition  from  Lowell 
than  from  any  other  Indian  agent  since  the 
trader  had  established  his  store  on  the 
reservation  line.  In  fact  the  young  agent 
had  made  whiskey-dealing  so  dangerous 
that  Talpers  was  getting  worried.  Lowell 
had  brought  the  Indian  police  to  a  state  of 
efficiency  never  before  obtained.  Bootleg- 
ging had  become  correspondingly  difficult. 
Jim  McFann  had  complained  several  times 
about  being  too  close  to  capture.  Now  he 
was  arrested  on  another  charge,  and,  as 
Lowell  had  said,  Talpers's  most  profitable 
line  of  business  was  certain  to  suffer.  As 
Bill  walked  back  to  his  store  he  wondered 
how  much  Lowell  actually  knew,  and  how 


82  MYSTERY  RANCH 

much  had  been  shrewd  guesswork.  The 
young  agent  had  a  certain  inscrutable  air 
about  him,  for  all  his  youth,  which  was  most 
disturbing. 

Talpers  had  not  dared  come  out  too 
openly  for  McFann's  release.  He  offered 
bail  bonds,  which  were  refused.  He  had 
managed  to  get  a  few  minutes'  talk  with 
McFann,  but  Redmond  insisted  on  being 
present,  and  all  the  trader  could  do  was  to 
assure  the  half-breed  that  everything  pos- 
sible would  be  done  to  secure  his  release. 

Bill's  disturbed  condition  of  mind  van- 
ished only  when  he  reached  into  his  pocket 
and  drew  out  the  letter  which  indicated  that 
the  girl  at  Mystery  Ranch  knew  something 
about  the  tragedy  which  was  setting  not 
only  the  county  but  the  whole  State  aflame. 
Here  was  a  trump  card  which  might  be 
played  in  several  different  ways.  The  thing 
to  do  was  to  hold  it,  and  to  keep  his  counsel 
until  the  right  time  came.  He  thanked  the 
good  fortune  that  had  put  him  in  possession 
of  the  postmastership  —  an  office  which  few 
men  were  shrewd  enough  to  use  to  their  own 


MYSTERY  RANCH  83 

good  advantage!  Any  common  postmaster, 
who  could  n't  use  his  brains,  would  have 
let  that  letter  go  right  through,  but  that 
wasn't  Bill  Talpers's  way!  He  read  the 
letter  over  again,  slowly,  as  he  had  done  a 
dozen  times  before.  Written  in  a  pretty 
hand  it  was  —  handwriting  befitting  a  dum 
fine-lookin'  girl  like  that!  Bill's  features 
softened  into  something  resembling  a  smile. 
He  put  the  letter  back  in  his  pocket,  and  his 
expression  was  almost  beatific  as  he  turned 
to  wait  on  an  Indian  woman  who  had  come 
in  search  of  a  new  shawl. 

Talpers's  attitude,  which  had  been  at 
once  cynical  and  mysterious,  was  the  cause 
of  some  speculation  on  Lowell's  part  as  the 
agent  drove  away  from  the  trader's  store. 
Something  had  happened  to  put  so  much  of 
triumph  in  Talpers's  face  and  speech,  but 
Lowell  was  not  able  to  figure  out  just  what 
that  something  could  be.  He  resolved  to 
keep  a  closer  eye  than  customary  on  the 
doings  of  the  trader,  but  soon  all  thoughts 
of  everything  save  those  concerned  directly 
with  the  murder  were  banished  from  his 


84  MYSTERY  RANCH 

mind  when  he  reached  the  scene   of  the 
tragedy. 

Getting  out  of  his  automobile,  Lowell 
went  over  the  ground  carefully.  The  grass 
and  even  some  of  the  sage  had  been  trampled 
down  by  the  curious  crowds  that  had  flocked 
to  the  scene.  An  hour's  careful  search  re- 
vealed nothing,  and  Lowell  walked  back  to 
his  car,  shaking  his  head.  Apparently  the 
surroundings  were  more  inscrutable  than 
ever.  The  rolling  hills  were  beginning  to 
lose  their  green  tint,  under  a  hot  sun,  un- 
relieved by  rain.  The  last  rain  of  the  season 
had  fallen  a  day  or  so  before  the  murder. 
Lowell  remembered  the  little  pools  he  had 
splashed  through  on  the  road,  and  the  scat- 
tered "wallows"  of  mud  that  had  remained 
on  the  prairie.  Such  places  were  now  all 
dry  and  caked.  A  few  meadow-larks  were 
still  singing,  but  even  their  notes  would  be 
silenced  in  the  long,  hot  days  that  were  to 
come.  But  the  distant  mountains,  and  the 
little  stream  in  the  bottom  of  the  vallev, 
looked  cool  and  inviting.  Ordinarily  Lowell 
would  have  turned  his  machine  toward  the 


MYSTERY  RANCH  85 

line  of  willows  and  tried  an  hour  or  so  of 
fly-fishing,  as  there  were  plenty  of  trout  in 
the  stream,  but  to-day  he  kept  on  along  the 
road  over  which  he  had  taken  Helen  Ervin 
to  her  stepfather's  ranch. 

As  Lowell  drove  up  in  front  of  Willis  Mor- 
gan's ranch-house,  he  noticed  a  change  for 
the  better  in  the  appearance  of  the  place. 
Wong  had  been  doing  some  work  on  the 
fence,  but  had  discreetly  vanished  when 
Lowell  came  in  sight.  The  yard  had  been 
cleared  of  rubbish  and  a  thick  growth  of 
weeds  had  been  cut  down. 

Lowell  marveled  that  a  Chinese  should 
be  doing  such  work  as  repairing  a  fence,  and 
wondered  if  the  girl  had  wrought  all  the 
changes  about  the  place  or  if  it  had  been 
done  under  Morgan's  direction. 

As  if  in  answer,  Helen  Ervin  came  into 
the  yard  with  a  rake  in  her  hand.  She  gave 
a  little  cry  of  pleasure  at  seeing  Lowell. 

"I'd  have  been  over  before,  as  I  prom- 
ised," said  Lowell,  "and  in  fact  I  had  ac- 
tually started  when  I  had  to  make  a  long 
trip  to  a  distant  part  of  the  reservation."/^" 


S6  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"I  suppose  it  was  in  connection  with  this 
murder,"  she  said. 

"Yes." 

"Tell  me  about  it.  What  bearing  did 
your  trip  have  on  it?" 

Lowell  was  surprised  at  the  intensity  of 
her  question. 

"Well,  you  see,"  he  said,  "I  had  to  bring 
in  a  couple  of  men  who  are  suspected  of 
committing  the  crime.  But,  frankly,  I 
thought  that  in  this  quiet  place  you  had  not 
so  much  as  heard  of  the  murder." 

The  girl  smiled,  but  there  was  no  mirth 
in  her  eyes. 

"Of  course  it  is  n't  as  if  one  had  newsboys 
shouting  at  the  door,"  she  replied,  "but 
we  could  n't  escape  hearing  of  it,  even  here. 
Tell  me,  who  are  these  men  you  have  ar- 
rested?" 

"  An  Indian  and  a  half-breed.  Their  tracks 
were  found  at  the  scene  of  the  murder.'3 

"But  that  evidence  is  so  slight!  Surely 
they  cannot  —  they  may  not  be  guilty.", 

"If  not,  they  will  have  to  clear  themselves 
at  the  trial." 


MYSTERY  RANCH  87 

"  Will  they  —  will  they  be  hanged  if  found 
guilty?" 

"They  may  be  lynched  before  the  trial. 
There  is  talk  of  it  now." 

Helen  made  a  despairing  gesture. 

"Don't  let  anything  of  that  sort  hap- 
pen!" she  cried.  "Use  all  your  influence. 
Get  the  men  out  of  the  country  if  you  can. 
But  don't  let  innocent  men  be  slain." 

Lowell  attempted  to  divert  her  mind  to 
other  things.  He  spoke  of  the  changed  ap- 
pearance of  the  ranch. 
;:  "  Your  coming  has  made  a  great  difference 
here,"  he  said.  "This  does  n't  look  like  the 
place  where  I  left  you  not  many  days  ago." 

Helen  closed  her  eyes  involuntarily,  as  if 
to  blot  out  some  vision  in  her  memory. 

"That   terrible   night!"    she   exclaimed. 

She  paused,  and  Lowell  looked  at  her  in 
surprise  and  alarm. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked.  "Is  there  any- 
thing wrong  —  anything  I  can  do  to  help 
you?" 

"No,"  she  said.   " Truly  there  is  not,  now. 


88  MYSTERY  RANCH 

But  there  was.  It  was  only  the  recollection 
of  my  coming  here  that  made  me  act  so 
queerly." 

"Look  here,"  said  Lowell  bluntly,  'is 
that  stepfather  of  yours  treating  you  all 
right?  To  put  it  frankly,  he  has  n't  a  very 
good  reputation  around  here.  I've  often 
regretted  not  telling  you  more  when  I 
brought  you  over  here.  But  you  know  how 
people  feel  about  minding  their  own  affairs. 
It's  a  foolish  sort  of  reserve  that  keeps 
us  quiet  when  we  feel  that  we  should 
speak." 

No,  I'm  treated  all  right,"  said  the  girl. 
It  was  just  homesickness  for  my  school, 
I  guess,  that  worked  on  me  when  I  first  came 
here.  But  I  can't  get  over  |the  recollection 
of  that  night  you  brought  me  to  this  place. 
Everything  seemed  so  chilling  and  desolate 
—  and  dead !  And  then  those  few  days  that 
followed!" 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  said,  quietly: 

"Did  you  know  that  my  stepfather  had 
married  an  Indian  woman?" 


MYSTERY  RANCH  89 

"Yes.  Do  you  mean  that  you  didn't 
know?" 

"No,  I  did  n't  know." 

"What  a  fool  I  was  for  not  telling  you 
these  things!"  exclaimed  Lowell.  "I  might 
have  saved  you  a  lot  of  humiliation." 

"You  could  have  saved  me  more  than 
humiliation.  He  told  me  all  about  her  — 
the  Indian  woman.  He  laughed  when  he 
told  me.  He  said  he  was  going  to  kill  me 
as  he  had  killed  her  —  by  inches." 

Lowell  grew  cold  with  horror. 

"But  this  is  criminal!"  he  declared.  "Let 
me  take  you  away  from  this  place  at  once. 
I  '11  find  some  place  where  you  can  go  — 
back  to  my  mother's  home  in  the  East." 

"No,  it's  all  right  now.  I'm  in  no  dan- 
ger, and  I  can't  leave  this  place.  In  fact  I 
don't  want  to,"  said  the  girl,  putting  her 
hand  on  Lowell's  arm. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  he  treated 
you  so  fiendishly  during  the  first  few  days, 
and  then  suddenly  changed  and  became  the 
most  considerate  of  relatives?" 

"I  tell  you  I  am  being  treated  all  right 


9o  MYSTERY  RANCH 

now.  I  merely  told  you  what  happened  at 
first  —  part  of  the  cruel  things  he  said  — 
because  I  could  n't  keep  it  all  to  myself 
any  longer.  Besides,  that  Indian  woman  — 
poor  little  thing !  —  is  on  my  mind  all  the 
time." 

"Then  you  won't  come  away?" 

"No  — he  needs  me." 

"Well,  this  beats  anything  I  ever  heard 
of  — "  began  Lowell.  Then  he  stopped  after 
a  glance  at  her  face.  She  was  deathly  pale. 
Her  eyes  were  unnaturally  bright,  and  her 
hands  trembled.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the 
school-girl  he  had  brought  to  the  ranch 
a  few  days  before  had  become  a  woman 
through  some  great  mental  trial. 

"Come  and  see,  or  hear,  for  yourself,'2 
said  Helen. 

Wonderingly,  Lowell  stepped  into  the 
ranch-house  kitchen.  Helen  pointed  to  the 
living-room. 

Through  the  partly  open  door,  Lowell 
caught  a  glimpse  of  an  aristocratic  face, 
surmounted  by  gray  hair.  A  white  hand 
drummed   on  the  arm  of  a  library  chair 


MYSTERY  RANCH  91 

which  contained  pillows  and  blankets.  From 
the  room  there  came  a  voice  that  brought 
to  Lowell  a  sharp  and  disagreeable  memory 
of  the  cutting  voice  he  had  heard  in  false 
welcome  to  Helen  Ervin  a  few  days  before. 
Only  now  there  was  querulous  insistence  in 
the  voice  —  the  insistence  of  the  sick  person 
who  calls  upon  some  one  who  has  proved 
unfailing  in  the  performance  of  the  tasks  of 
the  sick-room. 

Helen  stepped  inside  the  room  and  closed 
the  door.  Lowell  heard  her  talking  sooth- 
ingly to  the  sick  man,  and  then  she  came 
out. 

"You  have  seen  for  yourself/3  she  said. 

Lowell  nodded,  and  they  stepped  out 
into  the  yard  once  more. 

"I'll  leave  matters  to  your  own  judg- 
ment," said  Lowell,  "only  I'm  asking  two 
things  of  you.  One  is  to  let  me  know  if 
things  go  wrong,  and  the  other  isn't  quite 
so  important,  but  it  will  please  me  a  lot. 
It's  just  to  go  riding  with  me  right  now.'3 

Helen  smilingly  assented.  Once  more  she 
was  the  girl  he  had  brought  over  from  the 


92  MYSTERY  RANCH 

agency.  She  ran  indoors  and  spoke  a  few 
words  to  Wong,  and  came  out  putting  on  her 
hat. 

They  drove  for  miles  toward  the  heart 
of  the  Indian  reservation.  The  road  had 
changed  to  narrow,  parallel  ribbons,  with 
grass  between.  Cattle,  some  of  which  be- 
longed to  the  Indians  and  some  to  white 
leasers,  were  grazing  in  the  distance.  Oc- 
casionally they  could  see  an  Indian  habita- 
tion —  generally  a  log  cabin,  with  its  ugli- 
ness emphasized  by  the  grace  of  a  flanking 
tepee.  Everything  relating  to  human  affairs 
seemed  dwarfed  in  such  immensity.  The 
voices  of  Indian  herdsmen,  calling  to  each 
other,  were  reduced  to  faint  murmurs.  The 
very  sound  of  the  motor  seemed  blanketed. 

Lowell  and  the  girl  traveled  for  miles  in 
silence.  He  shrewdly  suspected  that  the  in- 
finite peace  of  the  landscape  would  prove 
the  best  tonic  for  her  overwrought  mind. 
His  theory  proved  correct.  The  girl  leaned 
back  in  the  seat,  and,  taking  off  her  hat, 
enjoyed  to  the  utmost  the  rush  of  the  breeze 
and  the  swift  changes  in  the  great  panorama. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  93 

"It  isn't  any  wonder  that  the  Indians 
fought  hard  for  this  country,  is  it?'  asked 
Lowell.  "It's  all  too  big  for  one's  compre- 
hension at  first,  especially  when  you've 
come  from  brick  walls  and  mere  strips  of 
sky,  but  after  you've  become  used  to  it 
you  can  never  forget  it." 

"I'd  like  to  keep  right  on  going  to  those 
blue  mountains,"  said  the  girl.  "It's  won- 
derful, but  a  bit  appalling,  to  a  tenderfoot 
such  as  I  am.  I  think  we'd  better  go 
back." 

Lowell  drove  in  a  circuitous  route  instead 
of  taking  the  back  trail.  Just  after  they 
had  swung  once  more  into  the  road  near  the 
ranch,  they  met  a  horseman  who  proved  to 
be  Bill  Talpers.  The  trader  reined  his  horse 
to  the  side  of  the  road  and  motioned  to 
Lowell  to  stop.  Bill's  grin  was  bestowed 
upon  the  girl,  who  uttered  a  little  exclama- 
tion of  dismay  when  she  established  the 
identity  of  the  horseman. 

"I  jest  wanted  to  ask  if  you  found  any- 
thing up  there,"  said  Bill,  jerking  his  thumb 
toward  the  road  over  which  he  had  just 


94  MYSTERY  RANCH 

ridden.   It  was  quite  plain  that  Talpers  had 
been  drinking. 

"Maybe  I  did,  and  maybe  not,  Bill,'3 
answered  Lowell  disgustedly.  "Anyway, 
what  about  it?" 

"Jest  this,"  observed  Bill,  talking  to 
Lowell,  but  keeping  his  gaze  upon  Helen. 
"Sometimes  you  can  find  letters  where  you 
don't  expect  the  guilty  parties  to  leave  'em. 
Mebbe  you  ain't  lookin'  in  the  right  place 
for  evidence.  How-de-do,  Miss  Ervin?  I'm 
goin'  to  drop  in  at  the  ranch  and  see  you 
and  your  stepfather  some  day.  I  ain't  been 
very  neighborly  so  far,  but  it's  because 
business  has  prevented.'' 

Lowell  started  the  car,  and  as  they  darted 
away  he  looked  in  astonishment  at  the  girl. 
Her  pallor  showed  that  once  more  she  was 
under  great  mental  strain.  It  came  to 
Lowell  in  a  flash  that  Bill's  arrogance  sprang 
from  something  deeper  than  mere  conceit  or 
drunkenness.  Undoubtedly  he  had  set  out 
deliberately  to  terrorize  the  girl,  and  had 
succeeded.  Lowell  waited  for  some  remark 
from  Helen,  but  none  came.   He  kept  back 


MYSTERY  RANCH  95 

the  questions  that  were  on  the  tip  of  his 
tongue.  Aside  from  a  few  banalities,  they 
exchanged  no  words  until  Lowell  helped  her 
from  the  car  at  the  ranch. 

"I  want  to  tell  you,'5  said  Lowell,  "that 
I  appreciate  such  confidence  as  you  have 
reposed  in  me.  I  won't  urge  you  to  tell  more 
but  I'm  going  to  be  around  in  the  offing, 
and,  if  things  don't  go  right,  and  especially 
if  BillTalpers— " 

There  was  so  much  terror  in  the  girl's 
eyes  that  Lowell's  assurances  came  to  a 
lame  ending.  She  turned  and  ran  into  the 
house,  after  a  fluttering  word  of  thanks  for 
the  ride,  and  Lowell,  more  puzzled  than 
ever,  drove  thoughtfully  away. 


CHAPTER  VI 

White  Lodge  was  a  town  founded  on  ex- 
citement. Counting  its  numerous  shootings 
and  consequent  lynchings,  and  proportion- 
ing them  to  its  population,  White  Lodge  had 
experienced  more  thrills  than  the  largest 
of  Eastern  cities.  Some  ribald  verse-writer, 
seizing  upon  White  Lodge's  weakness  as  a 
theme,  had  once  written: 

We  can  put  the  card  deck  by  us, 
We  can  give  up  whiskey  straight; 

Though  we  ain't  exactly  pious,    , 
We  can  fill  the  parson's  plate; 

We  can  close  the  gamblin'  places,  . 
We  can  save  our  hard-earned  coin, 

BUT  we  want  a  man  for  breakfast 
In  the  mor-r-rnin'. 

But  of  course  such  lines  were  written  in 
early  days,  and  for  newspaper  consumption 
in  a  rival  town.  White  Lodge  had  grown 
distinctly  away  from  its  wildness.  It  had 
formed  a  Chamber  of  Commerce  which  en- 
tered bravely  upon  its  mission  as  a  lode- 


MYSTERY  RANCH  97 

stone  for  the  attraction  of  Eastern  capital. 
But  the  lure  of  adventurous  days  still  re- 
mained in  the  atmosphere.  Men  who  were 
assembled  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  what 
could  be  done  about  getting  a  horseshoe- 
nail  factory  for  White  Lodge  wound  up  the 
session  by  talking  about  the  days  of  the 
cattle  and  sheep  war.  All  of  which  was  nat- 
ural, and  would  have  taken  place  in  any 
town  with  White  Lodge's  background  of 
stirring  tradition. 

Until  the  murder  on  the  Dollar  Sign 
road  there  had  been  little  but  tradition  for 
White  Lodge  to  feed  on.  The  sheriff's  job 
had  come  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  sinecure. 
But  now  all  was  changed.  Not  only  Wliite 
Lodge,  but  the  whole  countryside,  had  some- 
thing live  to  discuss.  Even  old  Ed  Halsey, 
who  had  not  been  down  from  his  cabin  in 
the  mountains  for  at  least  five  years, 
ambled  in  on  his  ancient  saddle  horse  to 
get  the  latest  in  mass  theory. 

So  far  as  theorizing  was  concerned,  opin- 
ion in  White  Lodge  ran  all  one  way.  The 
men  who  had  been  arrested  were  guilty, 


9  8  MYSTERY  RANCH 

so  the  local  newspaper  assumed,  echoing 
side-walk  conversation.  The  only  questions 
were:  Just  how  was  the  crime  committed, 
and  how  deeply  was  each  man  implicated? 
Also,  were  there  any  confederates?  Some  of 
the  older  cattlemen,  who  had  been  shut  out 
of  leases  on  the  reservation,  were  even  heard 
to  hint  that  in  their  opinion  the  whole  tribe 
might  have  had  a  hand  in  the  killing.  Any- 
way, Fire  Bear's  cohorts  should  be  rounded 
up  and  imprisoned  without  delay. 

Lowell  was  not  surprised  to  find  that  he 
had  been  drawn  into  the  vortex  of  unfriend- 
liness. More  articles  and  editorials  ap- 
peared in  the  "White  Lodge  Weekly  Star," 
putting  the  general  blame  for  the  tragedy 
upon  the  policy  of  "coddling"  the  Indians. 

"The  whole  thing,"  wound  up  one  edi- 
torial, "is  the  best  kind  of  an  argument  for 
throwing  open  the  reservation  to  white 
settlement." 

"That  is  the  heart  of  the  matter  as  it 
stands,"  said  Lowell,  pointing  out  the  edi- 
torial to  his  chief  clerk.  "This  murder  is  to 
be  made  the  excuse  for  a  big  drive  on  Con- 


MYSTERY  RANCH  99 

gress  to  have  the  reservation  thrown  open." 
"Yes,"  observed  Rogers,  "the  big  cattle- 
men have  been  itching  for  another  chance 
since  their  last  bill  was  defeated  in  Congress. 
They  remind  me  of  the  detective  concern 
that  never  sleeps,  only  they  might  better  get 
in  a  few  honest,  healthy  snores  than  waste 
their  time  the  way  they  have  lately.'1 

Lowell  paid  no  attention  to  editorial  crit- 
icism, but  it  was  not  easy  to  avoid  hearing 
some  of  the  personal  comment  that  was 
passed  when  he  visited  White  Lodge.  In 
fact  he  found  it  necessary  to  come  to  blows 
with  one  cowpuncher,  who  had  evidently 
been  stationed  near  Lowell's  automobile  to 
'get  the  goat'  of  the  young  Indian  agent. 
The  encounter  had  been  short  and  decisive. 
The  cowboy,  who  was  the  hero  of  many 
fistic  engagements,  passed  some  comment 
which  had  been  elaborately  thought  out  at 
the  camp-fire,  and  which,  it  was  figured  by 
his  collaborators,  "would  make  anything 
human  fight  or  quit." 

"That  big  cowpuncher  from  Sartwell's 
outfit  sure  got  the  agent's  goat  all  right,'3 


ioo  MYSTERY  RANCH 

said  Sheriff  Tom  Redmond,  in  front  of 
whose  office  the  affair  happened.  "That  is  to 
say,  he  got  the  goat  coming  head-on,  horns 
down  and  hoofs  striking  fire.  That  young 
feller  was  under  the  cowpuncher's  arms  in 
jest  one  twenty-eighth  of  a  second,  and  there 
was  only  two  sounds  that  fell  on  the  naked 
ear  —  one  being  the  smack  when  Lowell 
hit  and  the  other  the  crash  when  the  cow- 
puncher  lit.  If  that  rash  feller 'd  taken  the 
trouble  to  send  me  a  little  note  of  inquiry  in 
advance,  I  could  have  told  him  to  steer 
clear  of  a  man  who  tied  into  a  desperate 
man  the  way  that  young  agent  tied  into 
Jim  McFann  out  there  on  the  reservation. 
But  no  public  or  private  warnings  are  going 
to  be  necessary  now.  From  this  time  on, 
young  Lowell's  going  to  have  more  berth- 
room  than  a  wildcat." 

Such  matters  as  cold  nods  from  former 
friends  were  disregarded  by  Lowell.  He  had 
been  through  lesser  affairs  which  had 
brought  him  under  criticism.  In  fact  he 
knew  that  a  certain  measure  of  such  in- 
justice would  be  the  portion  of  any  man 


MYSTERY  RANCH  101 

who  accepted  the  post  of  agent.  He  went 
his  way,  doing  what  he  could  to  insure  a 
fair  trial  for  both  men,  and  at  the  same  time 
not  overlooking  anything  that  might  shed 
new  light  on  a  case  which  most  of  the  resi- 
dents of  White  LoSge  seemed  to  consider 
as  closed,  all  but  the  punishment  to  be 
meted  out  to  the  prisoners. 

The  hearing  was  to  be  held  in  the  little 
court-room  presided  over  by  Judge  Garford, 
who  had  been  a  figure  at  Vigilante  trials  in 
early  days  and  who  was  a  unique  personi- 
fication of  kindliness  and  firmness.  Both 
prisoners  had  refused  counsel,  nor  had  any 
confession  materialized,  as  Tom  Redmond 
had  prophesied.  McFann  had  spent  most 
of  his  time  cursing  all  who  had  been  con- 
cerned in  his  arrest.  Talpers  had  called  on 
him  again,  and  had  whispered  mysteriously 
through  the  bars: 

"Don't  worry,  Jim.  If  it  comes  to  a 
showdown,  I  '11  be  there  with  evidence  that  '11 
clear  you  flyin'." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Talpers  intended  to 
play  a  double  game.   He  would  let  matters 


102  MYSTERY  RANCH 

drift,  and  see  if  McFann  did  not  get  off  in 
the  ordinary  course  of  events.  Meantime 
the  trader  would  use  his  precious  possession, 
the  letter  written  by  Helen  Ervin,  to  terrify 
the  girl.  In  case  the  girl  proved  defiant, 
why,  then  it  would  be  time  to  produce  the 
letter  as  a  law-abiding  citizen  should,  and 
demand  that  the  searchlight  of  justice  be 
turned  on  the  author  of  a  missive  apparently 
so  directly  concerned  with  the  murder.  If 
it  so  happened  that  the  letter  in  his  hands 
proved  to  be  a  successful  weapon,  and  if 
Bill  Talpers  were  accepted  as  a  suitor,  he 
Would  let  the  matter  drop,  so  far  as  the 
authorities  were  concerned  —  and  Jim  Mc- 
Fann could  drop  with  it.  If  the  half-breed 
were  to  be  sacrificed  when  a  few  words  from 
Bill  Talpers  might  save  him,  so  much  the 
worse  for  Jim  McFann!  The  affairs  of  Bill 
Talpers  were  to  be  considered  first  of  all, 
and  there  was  no  need  of  being  too  solicitous 
over  the  welfare  of  any  mere  cat's-paw  like 
the  half-breed. 

If  Jim  McFann  had  known  what  was 
passing  in  the  mind  of  the  trader,  he  would 


MYSTERY  RANCH  103 

have  torn  his  way  out  of  jail  with  his  bare 
hands  and  slain  his  partner  in  bootlegging. 
But  the  half-breed  took  Talpers's  fair  words 
at  face  value  and  faced  his  prospects  with  a 
trifle  more  of  equanimity. 

Fire  Bear  continued  to  view  matters  with 
true  Indian  composure.  He  had  made  no 
protestations  of  innocence,  and  had  told 
Lowell  there  was  nothing  he  wanted  except 
to  get  the  hearing  over  with  as  quickly  as 
possible.  The  young  Indian,  to  Lowell's 
shrewd  eye,  did  not  seem  well.  His  actions 
were  feverish  and  his  eyes  unnaturally 
bright.  At  Lowell's  request,  an  agency  doc- 
tor was  brought  and  examined  Fire  Bear. 
His  report  to  Lowell  was  the  one  sinister 
word :   * '  Tuberculosis ! ' ' 

When  the  men  were  brought  into  the 
court-room  a  miscellaneous  crowd  had  as- 
sembled. Cowpunchers  from  many  miles 
away  had  ridden  in  to  hear  what  the  Indian 
and  "breed"  had  to  say  for  themselves. 
The  crowd  even  extended  through  the  open 
doors  into  the  hallway.  Late  comers,  who 
could  not  get  so  much  as  standing  room, 


104  MYSTERY  RANCH 

draped  themselves  upon  the  stairs  and  about 
the  porch  and  made  eager  inquiry  as  to  the 
progress  of  affairs. 

Helen  Ervin  rode  in  to  attend  the  hearing, 
in  response  to  an  inner  appeal  against  which 
she  had  struggled  vainly.  She  met  Lowell 
as  she  dismounted  from  the  old  white  horse 
in  front  of  the  court-house.  Lowell  had 
called  two  or  three  times  at  the  ranch,  fol- 
lowing their  ride  across  the  reservation.  He 
had  not  gone  into  the  house,  but  had  merely 
stopped  to  get  her  assurance  that  everything 
was  going  well  and  that  the  sick  man  was 
steadily  progressing  toward  convalescence. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  you  were  com- 
ing over?"  asked  Lowell.  "I  would  have 
brought  you  in  my  machine.  As  it  is,  I  must 
insist  on  taking  you  back.  I'll  have  Plenty 
Buffalo  lead  your  pony  back  to  the  ranch 
when  he  returns  t*>  the  agency." 

"I  could  n't  help  coming,"  said  Helen. 
"I  have  a  feeling  that  innocent  men  are  go- 
ing to  suffer  a  great  injustice.  Tell  me,  do 
you  think  they  have  a  chance  of  going  free? ' 

"They  may  be  held  for  trial,"  said  Lowell. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  105 

"No  one  knows  what  will  be  brought  up 
either  for  or  against  them  in  the  meantime.55 

"But  they  should  not  spend  so  much  as  a 
day  in  jail,"  insisted  Helen.    "They  — ,: 

Here  she  paused  and  looked  over  Lowell's 
shoulder,  her  expression  changing  to  alarm. 
The  agent  turned  and  beheld  Bill  Talpers 
near  them,  his  gaze  fixed  on  the  girl.  Tal- 
pers turned  away  as  Lowell  escorted  Helen 
upstairs  to  the  court-room,  where  he  secured 
a  seat  for  her. 

As  the  prisoners  were  brought  in  Helen 
recognized  the  unfriendliness  of  the  gen- 
eral attitude  of  White  Lodge  toward  them. 
Hostility  was  expressed  in  cold  stares  and 
whispered  comment. 

The  men  afforded  a  contrasting  picture. 
Fire  Bear's  features  were  pure  Indian.  His 
nose  was  aquiline,  his  cheek-bones  high,  and 
his  eyes  black  and  piercing,  the  intensity  of 
their  gaze  being  emphasized  by  the  fever 
which  was  beginning  to  consume  him.  His 
expression  was  martial.  In  his  football  days 
the  "fighting  face"  of  the  Indian  star  had 
often  appeared  on  sporting  pages.   He  sur- 


106  MYSTERY  RANCH 

veyed  the  crowd  in  the  court-room  with  calm 
indifference,  and  seldom  glanced  at  the  gray- 
bearded,  benign-looking  judge. 

Jim  McFann,  on  the  contrary,  seldom 
took  his  eyes  from  the  judge's  face.  Jim  was 
not  so  tall  as  Fire  Bear,  but  was  of  wiry, 
athletic  build.  His  cheek-bones  were  as  high 
as  those  of  the  Indian,  but  his  skin  was 
lighter  in  color,  and  his  hair  had  a  tendency 
to  curl.  His  sinewy  hands  were  clenched  on 
his  knees,  and  his  moccasined  feet  crossed 
and  uncrossed  themselves  as  the  hearing 
progressed. 

Each  man  testified  briefly  in  his  own  be- 
half, and  each,  in  Helen's  opinion,  told  a 
convincing  story.  Both  admitted  having 
been  on  the  scene  of  the  crime.  Jim  McFann 
was  there  first.  The  half-breed  testified 
that  he  had  been  looking  for  a  rawhide  lariat 
which  he  thought  he  had  dropped  from  his 
saddle  somewhere  along  the  Dollar  Sign 
road  the  day  before.  He  had  noticed  an 
automobile  standing  in  the  road,  and  had 
discovered  the  body  staked  down  on  the 
prairie.   In  answer  to  a  question,  McFann 


MYSTERY  RANCH  107 

admitted  that  the  rope  which  had  been  cut 
in  short  lengths  and  used  to  tie  the  mur- 
dered man  to  the  stakes  had  been  the  lariat 
for  which  he  had  been  searching.  He  was 
alarmed  at  this  discovery,  and  was  about 
to  remove  the  rope  from  the  victim's  ankles 
and  wrists,  when  he  had  descried  a  body  of 
horsemen  approaching.  He  had  thought 
the  horsemen  might  be  Indian  police,  and 
had  jumped  on  his  horse  and  ridden  away, 
making  his  way  through  a  near-by  gulch 
and  out  on  the  prairie  without  being  de- 
tected. 

"Why  were  you  so  afraid  of  the  Indian 
police?"  was  asked. 

The  half-breed  hesitated  a  moment,  and 
then  said: 

"Bootlegging." 

There  was  a  laugh  in  the  court-room  at 
this  —  a  sharp,  mirthless  laugh  which  was 
checked  by  the  insistent  sound  of  the  bailiff's 
gavel. 

Jim  McFann  sank  back  in  his  chair,  livid 
with  rage.  In  his  eyes  was  the  look  of  the 
snarling  wild  animal  —  the  same  look  that 


108  MYSTERY  RANCH 

had  flashed  there  when  he  sprang  at  Lowell 
in  his  camp.  He  motioned  that  he  had 
nothing  more  to  say. 

Fire  Bear's  testimony  was  as  brief.  He 
said  that  he  and  a  company  of  his  young 
men  —  perhaps  thirty  or  forty — all  mounted 
on  ponies,  had  taken  a  long  ride  from  the 
camp  where  they  had  been  making  medicine. 
The  trip  was  in  connection  with  the  medi- 
cine that  was  being  made.  Fire  Bear  and  his 
young  men  had  ridden  by  a  circuitous  route, 
and  had  left  the  reservation  at  the  Greek 
Letter  Ranch  on  the  same  morning  that 
McFann  had  found  the  slain  man's  body. 
They  had  intended  riding  along  the  Dollar 
Sign  road,  past  Talpers's  and  the  agency, 
and  back  to  their  camp.  But  on  the  big  hill 
between  Talpers's  and  the  Greek  Letter 
Ranch  they  had  found  the  automobile  stand- 
ing in  the  road,  and  a  few  minutes  later  had 
found  the  body,  just  as  McFann  had  de- 
scribed it.  They  had  not  seen  any  trace  of 
McFann,  but  had  noticed  the  tracks  of  a 
man  and  pony  about  the  automobile  and 
the  body.   The  Indians  had  held  a  quick 


MYSTERY  RANCH  109 

consultation,  and,  on  the  advice  of  Fire 
Bear,  had  quit  the  scene  suddenly.  It  was 
the  murder  of  a  white  man,  off  the  reserva- 
tion. It  was  a  case  for  white  men  to  settle. 
If  the  Indians  were  found  there,  they  might 
get  in  trouble.  They  had  galloped  across 
the  prairie  to  their  camp,  by  the  most  direct 
way,  and  had  not  gone  on  to  Talpers's  nor 
to  the  agency. 

Helen  expected  both  men  to  be  freed  at 
once.  To  her  dismay,  the  judge  announced 
that  both  would  be  held  for  trial,  without 
bail,  following  perfunctory  statements  from 
Plenty  Buffalo,  Walter  Lowell,  and  Sheriff 
Tom  Redmond,  relating  to  later  events  in 
the  tragedy.  As  in  a  dream  Helen  saw  some 
of  the  spectators  starting  to  leave  and  Red- 
mond's deputy  beckon  to  his  prisoners, 
when  Walter  Lowell  rose  and  asked  per- 
mission to  address  the  court  in  behalf  of  the 
Government's  ward,  Fire  Bear. 

Lowell,  in  a  few  words,  explained  that 
further  imprisonment  probably  would  be 
fatal  to  Fire  Bear.  He  produced  the  certi- 
ficate of  the  agency  physician,  showing  that 


no  MYSTERY  RANCH 

the  prisoner  had  contracted  tuberculosis. 

"If  Fire  Bear  will  give  me  his  Word  of 
honor  that  he  will  not  try  to  escape,"  said 
the  agent,  "I  will  guarantee  his  appearance 
on  the  day  set  for  his  trial." 

A  murmur  ran  through  the  court-room, 
quickly  hushed  by  the  insistent  gavel. 

Lowell  had  been  reasonably  sure  of  his 
ground  before  he  spoke.  The  venerable 
judge  had  always  been  interested  in  the  work 
at  the  agency,  and  was  a  close  student  of 
Indian  tradition  and  history.  The  request 
had  come  as^a  surprise,  but  the  court  hesi- 
tated only  a  moment,  and  then  announced 
that,  if  the  Government's  agent  on  the 
reservation  would  be  responsible  for  the 
delivery  of  the  prisoner  for  trial,  the  defend- 
ant, Fire  Bear,  would  be  delivered  to  said 
agent's  care.  The  other  defendant,  being 
in  good  health  and  not  being  a  ward  of  the 
Government,  would  have  to  stand  com- 
mitted to  jail  for  trial. 

Fire  Bear  accepted  the  news  with  out- 
ward indifference.  Jim  McFann,  with  his 
hands  tightly  clenched  and  the  big  veins 


MYSTERY  RANCH  1 1 1 

on  his  forehead  testifying  to  the  rage  that 
burned  within  him,  was  led  away  between 
Redmond  and  his  deputy.  There  was  a 
shuffling  of  feet  and  clinking  of  spurs  as  men 
rose  from  their  seats.  A  buzz  came  from  the 
crowd,  as  distinctly  hostile  as  a  rattler's 
whirr.  Words  were  not  distinguishable,  but 
the  sentiment  could  not  have  been  any  more 
distinctly  indicated  if  the  crowd  had  shouted 
in  unison. 

* 

Judge  Garford  rose  and  looked  in  a  fa- 
therly way  upon  the  crowd.  At  a  motion 
from  him  the  bailiff  rapped  for  attention. 
The  judge  stroked  his  white  beard  and  said 
softly: 

"Friends,  there  is  some  danger  that  ex- 
citement may  run  away  with  this  commu- 
nity. The  arm  of  the  law  is  long,  and  I  want 
to  say  that  it  will  be  reached  out,  without 
fear  or  favor,  to  gather  in  any  who  may  at- 
tempt in  any  way  to  interfere  with  the 
administration  of  justice." 

To  Helen  it  seemed  as  if  the  old,  heroic 
West  had  spoken  through  this  fearless  giant 
of  other  days.  There  was  no  mistaking  the 


ii2  MYSTERY  RANCH 

meaning  that  ran  through  that  quietly 
worded  message.  It  brought  the  crowd  up 
with  a  thrill  of  apprehension,  followed  by- 
honest  shame.  There  was  even  a  ripple  of 
applause.  The  crowd  started  once  more  to 
file  out,  but  in  different  mood.  Some  of  the 
more  impetuous,  who  had  rushed  downstairs 
before  the  judge  had  spoken,  were  hustled 
away  from  the  agent's  automobile,  around 
which  they  had  grouped  themselves  threat- 
eningly. 

"The  judge  means  business,"  one  old- 
timer  said  in  an  awe-stricken  voice.  "That 's 
the  way  he  looked  and  talked  when  he 
headed  the  Vigilantes'  court.  He  '11  do  what 
he  says  if  he  has  to  hang  a  dozen  men." 

When  Lowell  and  Helen  came  out  to 
the  automobile,  followed  by  Fire  Bear,  the 
court-house  square  was  almost  deserted. 
Fire  Bear  climbed  into  the  back  seat,  at 
Lowell's  direction.  He  was  without  mana- 
cles. Helen  occupied  the  seat  beside  the 
driver.  As  they  drove  away,  she  caught  a 
glimpse  of  Judge  Garford  coming  down  the 
court-house  steps.    He  was  engaged  in  tell- 


MYSTERY  RANCH  113 

ing  some  bit  of  pioneer  reminiscence  — 
something  broadly  pleasant.  His  face  was 
smiling  and  his  blue  eyes  were  twinkling. 
He  looked  almost  as  any  grandparent  might 
have  looked  going  to  join  a  favorite  grand- 
child at  a  park  bench.  Yet  here  was  a  man 
who  had  torn  aside  the  veil  and  permitted 
one  glimpse  at  the  old,  inspiring  West. 

Helen  turned  and  looked  at  him  again,  as, 
in  an  earlier  era,  she  would  have  looked  at 
Lincoln. 


CHAPTER  VII 

The  stage  station  at  White  Lodge  was  a 
temporary  center  of  public  interest  every 
afternoon  at  three  o'clock  when  Charley 
Hicks  drove  the  passenger  bus  in  from 
Quaking-Asp  Grove.  After  a  due  inspec- 
tion of  the  passengers  the  crowd  always 
shifted  immediately  to  the  post-office  to 
await  the  distribution  of  mail. 

A  well-dressed,  refined -looking  woman  of 
middle  age  was  among  the  passengers  on  the 
second  day  after  the  hearing  of  Fire  Bear 
and  Jim  McFann.  She  had  little  or  nothing 
to  say  on  the  trip  —  perhaps  for  the  reason 
that  speech  would  have  been  difficult  on 
account  of  the  monopolizing  of  the  conver- 
sation by  the  other  passengers.  These  in- 
cluded two  women  from  White  Lodge,  one 
rancher  from  Antelope  Mesa,  and  two  drum- 
mers who  were  going  to  call  on  White  Lodge 
merchants.  The  conversation  was  unusu- 
ally brisk  and  ran  almost  exclusively  on  the 
murder. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  115 

Judge  Garford's  action  in  releasing  Fire 
Bear  on  the  agent's  promise  to  produce  the 
prisoner  in  court  was  the  cause  of  consider- 
able criticism.  The  two  women,  the  ranch- 
man, and  one  of  the  drummers  had  voted 
that  too  much  leniency  was  shown.  The 
other  drummer  appealed  to  the  stage-driver 
to  support  his  contention  that  the  court's 
action  was  novel,  but  entirely  just. 

"Well,  all  I  can  say  is,"  remarked  the 
driver,  "that  if  that  Injun  shows  up  for 
trial,  as  per  his  agreement,  without  havin' 
to  be  sent  for,  it's  goin'  to  be  a  hard  les- 
son for  the  white  race  to  s waller.  You  can 
imagine  how  much  court 'd  be  held  if  all 
white  suspects  was  to  be  let  go  on  their  word 
that  they'd  show  up  for  trial.  Detectives 
'd  be  chasin'  fugitives  all  over  the  universe. 
If  that  Injun  shows  up,  I'll  carry  the  hull 
reservation  anywheres,  without  tickets,  if 
they'll  promise  to  pay  me  at  the  end  of 
the  trip." 

The  driver  noticed  that  the  quiet  lady  in 
the  back  seat,  though  taking  no  part  in  the 
conversation,   seemed  to  be  a    keenly  in- 


n6  MYSTERY  RANCH 

terested  listener.  No  part  of  the  discussion 
of  the  murder  escaped  her,  but  she  asked  no 
questions.  On  alighting  at  White  Lodge, 
she  asked  the  driver  where  she  could  get  a 
conveyance  to  take  her  to  Willis  Morgan's 
ranch. 

The  driver  looked  at  her  in  such  astonish- 
ment that  she  repeated  her  question. 

"I  'd  'a'  plum  forgot  there  was  such  a  man 
in  this  part  of  the  country,'5  said  Charley, 
"if  it  had  n't  'a'  been  that  sometime  before 
this  here  murder  I  carried  a  young  woman 
—  a  stepdaughter  of  his  'n  —  and  she  asked 
me  the  same  question.  I  don't  believe  you 
can  hire  any  one  to  take  you  out  there,  but 
I  '11  bet  I  can  get  you  took  by  the  same  young 
feller  that  took  this  girl  to  the  ranch.  He's 
the  Indian  agent,  and  I  seen  him  in  his  car 
when  we  turned  this  last  corner.'' 

Followed  by  his  passenger  the  driver 
hurried  back  to  the  corner  and  hailed  Walter 
Lowell,  who  was  just  preparing  to  return  to 
the  agency. 

On  having  matters  explained,  Lowell  ex- 
pressed his  willingness  to  carry   the  lady 


MYSTERY  RANCH  117 

passenger  over  to  the  ranch.  Her  suitcase 
was  put  in  the  automobile,  and  soon  they 
were  on  the  outskirts  of  White  Lodge. 

"I  ought  to  explain,"  said  the  agent's 
passenger,  "that  my  name  is  Scovill — • 
Miss  Sarah  Scovill  —  and  Mr.  Morgan's 
stepdaughter  has  been  in  my  school  for 
years." 

"I  know,"  said  Lowell.  "I've  heard  her 
talk  about  your  school,  and  I  'm  glad  you  're 
going  out  to  see  her.    She  needs  you.'2 

Miss  Scovill  looked  quickly  at  Lowell. 
She  was  one  of  those  women  whose  beauty 
is  only  accentuated  by  gray  hair.  Her  brow 
and  eyes  were  serene  — those  of  a  dreamer. 
Her  mouth  and  chin  were  delicately  mod- 
eled, but  firm.  Their  firmness  explained, 
perhaps,  why  she  was  executive  head  of  a 
school  instead  of  merely  a  teacher.  Not  all 
her  philosophy  had  been  won  from  books. 
She  had  traveled  and  observed  much  of  life 
at  first  hand.  That  was  why  she  could  keep 
her  counsel  —  why  she  had  kept  it  during 
all  the  talk  on  the  stage,  even  though  that 
talk  had  vitally  interested  her.   She  showed 


n8  MYSTERY  RANCH 

the  effects  of  her  long,  hard  trip,  but  would 
not  hear  of  stopping  at  the  agency  for 
supper. 

'If  you  don't  mind  —  if  it  is  not  alto- 
gether too  much  trouble  to  put  you  to  — 
I  must  go  on,"  she  said.  "I  assure  you  it's 
very  important,  and  it  concerns  Helen 
Ervin,  and  I  assume  that  you  are  her 
friend." 

Lowell  hastened  his  pace.  It  all  meant 
that  it  would  be  long  past  the  supper  hour 
when  he  returned  to  the  agency,  but  there 
was  an  appeal  in  Miss  Scovill's  eyes  and 
voice  which  was  not  to  be  resisted.  Any- 
way, he  was  not  going  to  offer  material  re- 
sistance to  something  which  was  concerned 
with  the  well  being  of  Helen  Ervin. 

They  sped  through  the  agency,  past  Tal- 
pers's  store,  and  climbed  the  big  hill  just 
as  the  purples  fell  into  their  accustomed 
places  in  the  hollows  of  the  plain.  As  they 
bowled  past  the  scene  of  the  tragedy,  Lowell 
pointed  it  out,  with  only  a  brief  word.  His 
passenger  gave  a  little  gasp  of  pain  and 
horror.    He  thought  it  was  nothing  more 


MYSTERY  RANCH  119 

than  might  ordinarily  be  expected  under 
such  circumstances,  but,  on  looking  at  Miss 
Scovill,  he  was  surprised  to  see  her  leaning 
back  against  the  seat,  almost  fainting. 

"By  George!"  said  Lowell  contritely,  "I 
should  n't  have  mentioned  it  to  you.': 

He  slowed  down  the  car,  but  Miss  Scovill 
sat  upright  and  recovered  her  mental  poise, 
though  with  evident  effort. 

"  I  'm  glad  you  did  mention  it,"  she  said, 
looking  back  as  if  fascinated.  "Only,  you 
see,  I  'd  been  hearing  about  the  murder  most 
of  the  day  in  the  stage,  and  then  this  place 
is  so  big  and  wide  and  lonely!  Please  don't 
think  I'm  foolish." 

"It's  all  because  you're  from  the  city  and 
have  n't  proportioned  things  as  yet,"  said 
Lowell.  "Now  all  this  loneliness  seems 
kindly,  to  me.  It's  only  crowds  that  seem 
cruel.  I  often  envy  trappers  dying  alone 
in  such  places.  Also  I  can  understand  why 
the  Indians  wanted  nothing  better  in  death 
than  to  have  their  bodies  hoisted  high  atop 
of  a  hill,  with  nothing  to  disturb." 

As  they  rounded  the  top  of  the  hill  and 


120  MYSTERY  RANCH 

the  road  came  up  behind  them  like  an  in- 
verted curtain,  Miss  Scovill  gave  one  last 
backward  look.  Lowell  saw  that  she  was 
weeping  quietly,  but  unrestrainedly.  He 
drove  on  in  silence  until  he  pulled  the  auto- 
mobile up  in  front  of  the  Morgan  ranch. 

"You'll  find  Miss  Ervin  here,"  said 
Lowell,  stepping  out  of  the  car.  'This  is  the 
Greek  Letter  Ranch." 

If  the  prospect  brought  any  new  shock  to 
Miss  Scovill,  she  gave  no  indication  of  the 
fact.  She  answered  Lowell  steadily  enough 
when  he  asked  her  when  he  should  call  for 
her  on  her  return  trip. 

"My  return  trip  will  be  right  now/3  she 
said.  "I've  thought  it  all  out  —  just  what 
I'm  to  do,  with  your  help.  Please  don't 
take  my  suitcase  from  the  car.  Just  turn 
the  car  around,  and  be  ready  to  take  us 
back  to-night  —  I  mean  Helen  and  myself. 
I  intend  to  bring  her  right  out  and  take  her 
away  from  this  place." 

Wonderingly  Lowell  turned  the  car  as  she 
directed.  Miss  Scovill  knocked  at  the  ranch- 
house  door.    It  was  opened  by  Wong,  and 


MYSTERY  RANCH  121 

Miss  Scovill  stepped  inside.  The  door  closed 
again.  Lowell  rolled  a  cigarette  and  smoked 
it,  and  then  rolled  another.  He  was  about 
to  step  out  of  the  car  and  knock  at  the 
ranch-house  door  when  Helen  and  [Miss 
Scovill  came  out,  each  with  an  arm  about 
the  other's  waist. 

Miss  ScovhTs  face  looked  whiter  than  ever 
in  the  moonlight. 

"Something  has  happened,"  she  said  — 
"something  that  makes  it  impossible  for  me 
to  go  back  —  for  Helen  to  go  back  with  me 
to-night.  If  you  can  come  and  get  me  in  the 
morning,  I'll  go  back  alone.J! 

Lowell's  amazement  knew  no  bounds. 
Miss  Scovill  had  made  this  long  journey 
from  San  Francisco  to  get  Helen  —  evi- 
dently to  wrest  her  at  once  away  from  this 
ranch  of  mystery  —  and  now  she  was  going 
back  alone,  leaving  the  girl  among  the  very 
influences  she  had  intended  to  combat. 

"Please,  Mr.  Lowell,  do  as  she  says,"  in- 
terposed Helen,  whose  demeanor  was  grave, 
but  whose  joy  at  this  meeting  with  her 
teacher  and  foster  mother  shone  in  her  eyes. 


122  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"Yes,  yes  —  you'll  have  our  thanks  all 
through  vour  life  if  vou  will  take  me  back 
to-morrow  and  say  nothing  of  what  you 
have  seen  or  heard,"  said  Miss  Scovill. 

Lowell  handed  Miss  Scovill's  suitcase  to 
the  silent  Wong,  who  had  slipped  out  behind 
the  women. 

"I'm  only  too  glad  to  be  of  service  to  you 
in  any  way,"  he  said.  "I'll  be  here  in  the 
morning  early  enough  so  you  can  catch  the 
stage  out  of  White  Lodge." 

Much  smoking  on  the  way  home  did  not 
clear  up  the  mystery  for  Lowell.  Nor  did 
sitting  up  and  weighing  the  matter  long 
after  his  usual  bedtime  bring  him  any  nearer 
to  answering  the  questions:  Why  did  Miss 
Scovill  come  here  determined  to  take  Helen 
Ervin  back  to  San  Francisco  with  her?  Why 
did  Miss  Scovill  change  her  mind  so  com- 
pletely after  arriving  at  Morgan's  ranch? 
Also  why  did  said  Miss  Scovill  betray  such 
unusual  agitation  on  passing  the  scene  of 
the  murder  on  the  Dollar  Sign  road  —  a 
murder  that  she  had  been  hearing  discussed 
from  all  angles  during  the  day? 


MYSTERY  RANCH  123 

This  last  question  was  intensified  the  next 
morning,  when,  with  Helen  in  the  back  seat 
with  Miss  Scovill,  Lowell  drove  back  to 
White  Lodge.  When  they  passed  the  scene 
of  the  murder,  Lowell  took  pains  to  notice 
that  Miss  Scovill  betrayed  no  signs  of  men- 
tal strain.  Yet  only  a  few  hours  before  she 
had  been  completely  unnerved  at  passing 
by  this  same  spot. 

The  women  talked  little  on  the  trip  to 
White  Lodge.  What  talk  there  was  between 
them  was  on  school  matters  —  mostly  remi- 
niscences of  Helen's  school-days.  Lowell 
could  not  help  thinking  that  they  feared  to 
talk  of  present  matters  —  that  something 
was  weighing  them  down  and  crushing  them 
into  silence.  But  they  parted  calmly  enough 
at  White  Lodge.  After  the  stage  had  gone 
with  Miss  Scovill,  Helen  slipped  into  the 
seat  beside  Lowell  and  chatted  somewhat 
as  she  had  done  during  their  first  journey 
over  the  road. 

As  for  Lowell,  he  dismissed  for  the  mo- 
ment all  thoughts  of  tragedy  and  mystery 
from  his  mind,  and  gave  himself  up  to  the 


i24  MYSTERY  RANCH 

enjoyment  of  the  ride.  They  stopped  at  the 
agency,  and  Helen  called  on  some  of  the 
friends  she  had  made  on  her  first  journey 
through.  Lowell  showed  her  about  the 
grounds,  and  she  took  keen  interest  in  all 
that  had  been  done  to  improve  the  condi- 
tion of  the  Indians. 

"Of  course  the  main  object  is  to  induce 
the  Indian  to  work,'"  said  Lowell.  "The 
agency  is  simply  an  experimental  plant  to 
show  him  the  right  methods.  It  was  hard 
for  the  white  man  to  leave  the  comfortable 
life  of  the  savage  and  take  up  work.  The 
trouble  is  that  we're  expecting  the  Indian 
to  acquire  in  a  generation  the  very  things 
it  took  us  ages  to  accept.  That's  why  I 
have  n't  been  in  too  great  a  hurry  to  shut 
down  on  dances  and  religious  ceremonies, 
The  Indian  has  had  to  assimilate  too  much, 
as  it  is.  It  seems  to  me  that  if  he  makes 
progress  slowly  that  is  about  all  that  can 
be  expected  of  him," 

"It  seems  to  me  that  saving  the  Indian 
from  extermination,  as  all  this  work  is  help- 
ing to  do,  is  among  the  greatest  things  in 


MYSTERY  RANCH  125 

the  world,"  said  Helen.  "The  sad  thing  to 
me  is  that  these  people  seem  so  remote  from 
all  help.  The  world  forgets  so  easily  what 
it  can't  see." 

"Yes,  there  are  no  newspapers  out  here 
to  get  up  Christmas  charity  drives,  and 
there  are  few  volunteer  settlement  workers, 
to  be  called  on  for  help  at  any  time.  And 
there  are  no  charity  balls  for  the  Indian. 
It  is  n't  that  he  wants  charity  so  much  as 
understanding." 

"Understanding  often  comes  quickest 
through  charity,"  interposed  Helen.  "It 
seems  to  me  that  no  one  could  ask  a  better 
life-work  than  to  help  these  people." 

"There's  more  to  them  than  the  world 
has  been  willing  to  concede,'5  declared 
Lowell.  'I  never  have  subscribed  to  Park- 
man's  theory  that  the  Indian's  mind  moves 
in  a  beaten  track  and  that  his  soul  is  dor- 
mant. The  more  I  work  among  them  the 
more  respect  I  have  for  their  capabilities." 

Further  talk  of  Indian  affairs  consumed 
the  remainder  of  the  trip.  Lowell  was  an 
enthusiast  in  his  work,  though  he  seldom 


126  MYSTERY  RANCH 

talked  of  it,  preferring  to  let  results  speak 
for  themselves.  But  he  had  found  a  ready 
and  sympathetic  listener.  Furthermore,  he 
wished  to  take  the  girl's  mind  from  the  mat- 
ters that  evidently  were  proving  such  a 
weight.  He  succeeded  so  well  that  not 
until  they  reached  the  ranch  did  her  trou- 
bled expression  return. 

"Tell  me,"  said  Lowell,  as  he  helped  her 
from  the  automobile,  is  "he  —  is  Morgan 
better,  and  is  he  treating  you  all  right?' 

"Yes,  to  both  questions,"  said  she.  Then, 
after  a  moment's  hesitation,  she  added: 
"Come  in.  Perhaps  it  will  be  possible  for 
you  to  see  him." 

Lowell  stepped  into  the  room  that  served 
as  Morgan's  study.  One  wall  was  lined 
with  books,  Greek  predominating.  Helen 
knocked  at  the  door  of  the  adjoining  room, 
and  there  came  the  clear,  sharp,  cynical 
voice  that  had  aroused  all  the  antagonism 
in  Lowell's  nature  on  his  first  visit. 

"Come  in,  come  in!"  called  the  voice,  as 
cold  as  ice  crystals. 

Helen  entered,  and  closed  the  door.   The 


MYSTERY  RANCH  127 

voice  could  be  heard,  in  different  modula- 
tions, but  always  with  profound  cynicism  as 
its  basis. 

Lowell,  with  a  gesture  of  rage,  stepped  to 
the  library  table.  He  picked  up  a  volume  of 
Shakespeare's  tragedies,  and  noticed  that 
all  references  to  killing  and  to  bloodshed 
in  general  had  been  blotted  out.  Passage 
after  passage  was  blackened  with  heavy 
lines  in  lead  pencil.  In  astonishment,  Lowell 
picked  up  another  volume  and  found  that  the 
same  thing  had  been  done.  Then  the  door 
opened  and  he  heard  the  cutting  voice  say: 

"Tell  the  interesting  young  agent  that  I 
am  indisposed.  I  have  never  had  a  social 
caller  within  my  doors  here,  and  I  do  not 
wish  to  start  now." 

Helen  came  out  and  closed  the  door. 
,  "You  heard?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  replied  Lowell.  "It's  all  right. 
I  'm  only  sorry  if  my  coming  has  caused  you 
any  additional  pain  or  embarrassment.  I 
won't  ask  you  again  what  keeps  you  in  an 
atmosphere  like  this,  but  any  time  you  want 
to  leave,  command  me  on  the  instant." 


128  MYSTERY  RANCH 

f  " Please  don't  get  our  talk  back  where  it 
was  before,"  pleaded  Helen,  as  they  stepped 
out  on  the  porch  and  Lowell  said  good-bye. 
"I've  enjoyed  the  ride  and  the  talk  to-day 
because  it  all  took  me  away  from  myself  and 
from  this  place  of  horrors.  But  I  can't  leave 
here  permanently,  no  matter  how  much  I 
might  desire  it." 

"It's  all  going  to  be  just  as  you  say," 
Lowell  replied.  "Some  day  I'll  see  through 
it  all,  perhaps,  but  right  now  I  'm  not  trying 
very  hard,  because  some  way  I  feel  that  you 
don't  want  me  to." 

She  shook  hands  with  him  gratefully,  and 
Lowell  drove  slowly  back  to  the  agency,  not 
forgetting  his  customary  stop  at  the  scene 
of  the  murder  —  a  stop  that  proved  fruitless 
as  usual. 

When  he  entered  the  agency  office,  Lowell 
was  greeted  with  an  excited  hail  from  Ed 
Kogers. 

"Here's  news!"  exclaimed  the  chief  clerk. 
"Tom  Redmond  has  telephoned  over  that 
Jim  McFann  has  broken  jail." 

"How  did  he  get  away?" 


MYSTERY  RANCH  129 

"Jim  had  been  hearing  all  this  talk  about 
lynching.  It  had  been  coming  to  him,  bit 
by  bit,  in  the  jail,  probably  passed  on  by  the 
other  prisoners,  and  it  got  him  all  worked 
up.  It  seems  that  the  jailer's  kid,  a  boy 
about  sixteen  years  old,  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  bringing  Jim's  meals.  Also  the  kid 
had  a  habit  of  carrying  Dad's  keys  around, 
just  to  show  off.  Instead  of  grabbing  his 
soup,  Jim  grabbed  the  kid  by  the  throat. 
Then  he  made  the  boy  unlock  the  cell  door 
and  Jim  slipped  out,  gagged  the  kid,  and 
walked  out  of  the  jail.  He  jumped  on  a 
cowboy's  pony  in  front  of  the  jail,  and  was 
gone  half  an  hour  before  the  kid,  who  had 
been  locked  in  Jim's  cell,  managed  to  at- 
tract attention.  Tom  Redmond  wants  you 
to  get  out  the  Indian  police,  because  he's 
satisfied  Jim  has  skipped  to  the  reservation 
and  is  hiding  somewhere  in  the  hills.'1 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"That  there  girl  down  at  the  Greek  Let- 
ter Ranch  is  the  best-lookin'  girl  in  these 
parts.  I  was  goin1  to  slick  up  and  drop 
around  to  see  her,  but  this  here  Injun  agent 
got  in  ahead  of  me.  A  man  with  nothin'  but 
a  cowpony  don't  stand  a  show  against  a 
feller  with  an  auto  when  it  comes  to  callin' 
on  girls  these  days." 

The  nasal,  drawling  voice  of  Andy  Wol- 
ters,  cowpuncher  for  one  of  the  big  leasing 
outfits  on  the  Indian  reservation,  came  to 
the  ears  of  Bill  Talpers  as  the  trader  sat 
behind  his  post-office  box  screen,  scowling 
out  upon  a  sunshiny  world. 

A  chorus  of  laughter  from  other  cow- 
punchers  greeted  the  frank  declaration  of 
Mr.  Wolters. 

"Agent  or  no  agent,  you  would  n't  stand 
a  show  with  that  girl,"  chimed  in  one  of  the 
punchers.  "The  squaw  professor 'd  run  you 
through  the  barb-wire  fence  so  fast  that 


(   MYSTERY  RANCH  131 

you'd  leave  hide  and  clothes  stickin'  to  it. 
Willis  Morgan  ain't  ever  had  a  visitor  on  his 
place  sence  he  run  the  Greek  Letter  brand 
on  his  first  steer. '! 

"Well,  he  ain't  got  any  more  steers  left. 
That  old  white  horse  is  all  the  stock  I  see 
of  his  —  anyways,  it 's  all  that 's  carryin' 
that  pitchfork  brand." 

"You  know  what  they  say  about  how  old 
Morgan  got  that  pitchfork  brand,  don't 
you?  —  how  he  was  huntin'  through  the 
brand  book  one  night,  turnin'  the  pages  over 
and  cussin'  because  nothin'  seemed  to  suit 
his  fancy,  when  all  of  a  sudden  there  was  a 
bright  light  and  a  strong  smell  of  sulphur, 
and  the  devil  himself  was  right  there  at 
Morgan's  side.  'Use  this  for  a  brand,'  says 
the  devil,  and  there  was  the  mark  of  his  pitch- 
fork burnt  on  Morgan's  front  door,  right 
where  you'll  see  it  to-day  if  you  ever  want 
to  go  clost  enough." 

"Anyway,  git  that  out  of  your  head  about 
Morgan's  ranch  never  havin'  any  visitors," 
said  another  cowboy.  "This  here  Injun 
agent's  auto  runs  down  there  reg'lar.  Must 


i32  MYSTERY  RANCH 

be  that  he 's  a  kind  of  a  Trilby  and  has  got 
old  Morgan  hypnotized." 

"Aw,  you  mean  a  Svengali." 

"I  bet  you  these  spurs  against  a  package 
of  smokin'  tobacco  I  know  what  I  mean," 
stoutly  asserted  the  cowpuncher  whose  lit- 
erary knowledge  had  been  called  in  ques- 
tion, and  then  the  talk  ran  along  the  familiar 
argumentative  channels  that  had  no  interest 
for  Bill  Talpers. 

The  trader  looked  back  into  the  shadowy 
depths  of  his  store.  Besides  the  cowTboys 
there  were  several  Indians  leaning  against 
the  counters  or  sitting  lazily  on  boxes  and 
barrels.  Shelves  and  counters  were  piled 
with  a  colorful  miscellany  of  goods  calcu- 
lated to  appeal  to  primitive  tastes.  There 
were  bright  blankets  and  shawls,  the  latter 
greedily  eyed  by  every  Indian  woman  who 
came  into  the  store.  There  were  farming 
implements  and  boots  and  groceries  and 
harness.  In  the  corner  where  Bill  Talpers 
sat  was  the  most  interesting  collection  of  all. 
This  corner  was  called  the  pawnshop.  Here 
Bill  paid  cash  for  silver  rings  and  bracelets, 


MYSTERY  RANCH  133 

and  for  turquoise  and  other  semi-precious 
stones  either  mounted  or  in  the  rough. 
Here  he  dickered  for  finely  beaded  moc- 
casins and  hat-bands  and  other  articles 
for  which  he  found  a  profitable  market  in 
the  East.  Here  watches  were  put  up  for 
redemption,  disappearing  after  they  had 
hung  their  allotted  time. 

Traders  on  the  reservation  were  not  per- 
mitted to  have  such  corners  in  their  stores, 
but  Bill,  being  over  the  line,  drove  such 
bargains  as  he  pleased  and  took  such  security 
as  he  wished. 

As  Bill  looked  over  his  oft-appraised 
stock,  it  seemed  to  have  lost  much  of  its  one- 
time charm.  Storekeeping  for  a  bunch  of 
Indians  and  cowpunchers  was  no  business 
for  a  smart,  self-respecting  man  to  be  in  — 
a  man  who  had  ambitions  to  be  somebody 
in  a  busier  world.  The  thing  to  do  was  to 
sell  out  and  clear  out — after  he  had  married 
that  girl  at  Morgan's  ranch.  He  had  been 
too  lenient  with  that  girl,  anyway.  Here  he 
held  the  whip-hand  over  her  and  had  never 
used  it.   He  had  been  waiting  from  day  to 


134  MYSTERY  RANCH 

day,  gloating  over  his  opportunities,  and 
this  Indian  agent  had  been  calling  on  her 
and  maybe  was  getting  her  confidence. 

Maybe  it  had  gone  so  far  that  the  girl 
had  told  Lowell  about  the  letter  she  had 
mailed  and  that  Bill  had  held  up.  Some- 
thing akin  to  a  chill  moved  along  Bill's  spinal 
column  at  the  thought.  But  of  course  such 
a  thing  could  not  be.  The  girl  couldn't 
afford  to  talk  about  anything  like  that  let- 
ter, which  was  certain  to  drag  her  into  the 
murder. 

Bill  looked  at  the  letter  again  and  then 
tucked  it  back  in  the  safe.  That  was  the 
best  place  to  keep  it.  It  might  get  lost  out 
of  his  pocket  and  then  there 'd  be  the  very 
devil  to  pay.  He  knew  it  all  by  heart,  any- 
way. It  was  enough  to  give  him  what  he 
wanted — this  girl  for  a  wife.  She  simply 
could  n't  resist,  with  that  letter  held  over 
her  by  a  determined  man  like  Bill  Talpers. 
After  he  had  married  her,  he  'd  sell  out  this 
pile  of  junk  and  let  somebody  else  haggle 
with  the  Injuns  and  cowpunchers.  Bill  Tal- 
pers 'd  go  where  he  could  wear  good  clothes 


MYSTERY  RANCH  135 

every  day,  and  his  purty  wife'd  hold  up  her 
head  with  the  best  of  them!  He'd  go  over 
and  state  his  case  that  very  night.  He  'd  lay 
down  the  law  right,  so  this  girl  at  Morgan's 
'd  know  who  her  next  boss  was  going  to 
be.  If  Willis  Morgan  tried  to  interfere,  Bill 
Talpers  'd^  crush  him  just  the  way  he'd 
crushed  many  a  rattler! 

As  a  preliminary  to  his  courting  trip,  Bill 
took  a  drink  from  a  bottle  that  he  kept 
handy  in  his  corner.  Then  he  walked  out 
to  his  sleeping-quarters  in  the  rear  of  the 
store  and  "slicked  up  a  bit,"  during  which 
process  he  took  several  drinks  from  another 
bottle  which  was  stowed  conveniently  there. 

Leaving  his  store  in  charge  of  his  clerk, 
Bill  rode  over  the  Dollar  Sign  highway 
toward  Morgan's  ranch.  The  trader  was 
dressed  in  black.  A  white  shirt  and  white 
collar  fairly  hurt  theVye,  being  in  such  sharp 
contrast  with  Bill's  dark  skin  and  darker 
beard.  A  black  hat,  wide  of  brim  and  care- 
fully creased,  replaced  the  nondescript  felt 
affair  which  Bill  usually  wore.  He  donned 
the  best  pair  of  new  boots  that  he  could 


136  MYSTERY  RANCH 

select  from  his  stock.  They  hurt  his  feet 
so  that  he  swung  first  one  and  then  the 
other  from  the  stirrups  to  get  relief.  There 
was  none  to  tell  Bill  that  his  broad,  power- 
ful frame  looked  better  in  its  everyday 
habiliments,  and  he  would  not  have  be- 
lieved, even  if  he  had  been  told.  He  had 
created  a  sensation  as  he  had  creaked 
through  the  store  after  his  dressing-up 
operations  had  been  completed,  and  he  in- 
tended to  repeat  the  thrill  when  he  burst 
upon  the  vision  of  the  girl  at  Morgan's. 

Wong  had  cleared  away  the  supper  dishes 
at  the  Greek  Letter  Ranch,  and  had  silently 
taken  his  way  to  the  little  bunkhouse  which 
formed  his  sleeping-quarters. 

In  the  library  a  lamp  glowed.  A  gray- 
haired  man  sat  at  the  table,  bowed  in 
thought.  A  girl,  sitting  across  from  him, 
was  writing.  Outside  was  the  silence  of  the 
prairie  night,  broken  by  an  occasional  bird 
call  near  by. 

"It  is  all  so  lonely  here,  I  wonder  how 
you  can  stand  it,"  said  the  man.  There  was 


MYSTERY  RANCH  137 

deep  concern  in  his  voice.  All  sharpness 
had  gone  from  it. 

"It  is  all  different,  of  course,  from  the 
country  in  which  I  have  been  living,  and  it 
is  lonely,  but  I  could  get  used  to  it  soon  if 
it  were  not  for  this  pall  — - " 

Here  the  girl  rose  and  went  to  the  open 
window.  She  leaned  on  the  sill  and  looked 
out. 

The  man's  gaze  followed  her.  She  was 
even  more  attractive  than  usual,  in  a  house 
dress  of  light  color,  her  arms  bare  to  the 
elbows,  and  her  pale,  expressive  face  limned 
against  the  black  background  of  the  night. 

"I  know  what  you  would  say,"  replied 
the  man.  "It  would  be  bearable  here  — 
in  fact,  it  might  be  enjoyable  were  it  not 
for  the  black  shadow  upon  us.  Rather  it  is 
a  shadow  which  is  blood-red  instead  of 
black." 

His  voice  rose,  and  excitement  glowed 
in  his  deep-set,  clear  gray  eyes.  His  face 
lost  its  pallor,  and  his  well-shaped,  yet 
strong  hands  clutched  nervously  at  the 
arms  of  his  chair. 


i3 8  MYSTERY  RANCH 

The  girl  turned  toward  him  soothingly, 
when  both  paused  and  listened. 

"It  is  some  Indian  going  by,"  said  the 
man,  as  hoof-beats  became  distinct. 

"The  Indians  don't  ride  this  late.  Be- 
sides, no  Indian  would  stop  here." 

The  man  stepped  to  an  adjoining  room. 
As  he  disappeared,  there  came  the  sound 
of  footfalls  on  the  porch  and  Bill  Talpers's 
heavy  knock  made  the  front  door  panels 
shake. 

The  girl  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then 
opened  the  door.  The  trader  walked  in 
without  invitation,  his  new  boots  squeaking 
noisily.  If  he  had  expected  any  exhibition 
of  fear  on  the  part  of  the  girl,  Talpers  was 
mistaken.  She  looked  at  him  calmly,  and 
Bill  shifted  uneasily  from  one  foot  to  an- 
other as  he  took  off  his  hat. 

"I  thought  I'd  drop  in  for  a  little  social 
call,  seein'  as  you  ain't  called  on  me  sence 
our  talk  about  that  letter,"  said  Bill,  seating 
himself  at  the  table. 

"It  was  what  I  might  have  expected," 
replied  the  girl. 


1  MYSTERY  RANCH  139 

"That's  fine,"  said  Bill  amiably.  "I'm 
tickled  to  know  that  you  expected  me." 

"Yes,  knowing  what  a  coward  you  are,  I 
thought  you  would  come." 

Talpers  flushed  angrily,  and  then  grinned, 
until  his  alkali-cracked  lips  glistened  in  the 
lamplight. 

"That's  the  spirit!"  he  exclaimed.  "I 
never  seen  a  more  spunky  woman,  and 
that 's  the  kind  I  like.  But  there  ain't  many 
humans  that  can  call  me  a  coward.  I  guess 
you  don't  know  how  many  notches  I've 
got  on  the  handle  of  this  forty-five,  do  you? ' 
he  asked,  touching  the  gun  that  swung  in  a 
holster  at  his  hip  under  his  coat.  "Well, 
there's  three  notches  on  there,  and  that 
don't  count  an  Injun  I  got  in  a  fair  fight.  I 
don't  count  any  coups  unless  they're  on 
white  folks." 

"I'm  not  interested  in  your  record  of 
bloodshed.''  The  girl's  voice  was  low,  but 
it  stung  Bill  to  anger. 

"Yes,  you  are,"  he  retorted.  "You're 
goin'  to  be  mighty  proud  of  your  husband's 
record.   You'll  be  glad  to  be  known  as  the 


i4o  MYSTERY  RANCH 

wife  of  Bill  Talpers,  who  never  backed  down 
from  no  man.  That's  what  I  come  over 
here  for,  to  have  you  say  that  you'll  marry 
me.  If  you  don't  say  it,  I'll  have  to  give 
that  letter  over  to  the  authorities  at  White 
Lodge.  It  sure  would  be  a  reg'lar  bombshell 
in  the  case  right  now." 

The  trader's  squat  figure,  in  his  black 
suit,  against  the  white  background  made 
by  the  lamp,  made  the  girl  think  of  a  huge, 
grotesque  blot  of  ink.  His  broad,  hairy 
hand  rested  on  the  table.  She  noticed  the 
strong,  thick  fingers,  devoid  of  flexibility, 
yet  evidently  of  terrific  strength. 

"Now  you  and  me,"  went  on  Talpers, 
"could  get  quietly  married,  and  I  could  sell 
this  store  of  mine  for  a  good  figger,  and  I  'd 
be  willin'  to  move  anywheres  you  want 
—  San  Francisco,  or  Los  Angeles,  or  San 
Diego,  or  anywheres.  And  I  could  burn  up 
that  letter,  and  there  need  n  't  nobody  know 
that  the  wife  of  Bill  Talpers  was  mixed  up 
in  the  murder  that  is  turnin'  this  here  State 
upside  down.  Furthermore,  jest  to  show  you 
that  Bill  Talpers  is  a  square  sort,  I  won't 


MYSTERY  RANCH  141 

ever  ask  you  myself  jest  how  deep  and  how 
wide  you're  in  this  murder,  nor  why  you 
wrote  that  letter,  nor  what  it  was  all  about. 
Ain't  that  fair  enough?" 

The  girl  laughed. 

"It's  too  fair,"  she  said.  "I  can't  believe 
you'd  hold  to  such  a  bargain." 

"You  try  me  and  see,"  urged  Bill.  "AH 
you've  got  to  do  is  to  say  you'll  marry  me.'3 

"Well,  I'll  never  say  it." 

"Yes,  you  will,"  huskily  declared  Bill, 
putting  his  hat  on  the  table.  "You'll  say 
it  right  here,  to-night.  Your  stepfather's 
sick,  I  hear.  If  he  was  feelin'  his  best  he 
would  n  't  be  more  'n  a  feather  in  my  way  — 
not  more'n  that  Chinaman  of  yours.  I've 
got  to  have  your  word  to-night,  or,  by 
cripes,  that  letter  goes  to  White  Lodge ! ' 

The  girl  was  alarmed.  She  was  colorless 
as  marble,  but  her  eyes  were  defiant.  Tam- 
pers advanced  toward  her  threateningly, 
and  she  retreated  toward  the  door  which 
opened  into  the  other  room.  Bill  swung 
her  aside  and  placed  himself  squarely  in 
front  of  the  door,  his  arms  outspread. 


142  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"No  hide  and  seek  goes,"  he  said.    "You 
stay  in  this  room  till  you  give  me  the  right 


answer.'' 


The  girl  ran  toward  the  door  opening  into 
the  kitchen.  Talpers  ran  after  her,  clumsily 
but  swiftly.  The  girl  saw  that  she  was  going 
to  be  overtaken  before  reaching  the  door, 
and  dodged  to  one  side.  The  trader  missed 
his  grasp  for  her,  and  pitched  forward,  the 
force  of  his  fall  shaking  the  cabin.  He  struck 
his  head  against  a  corner  of  the  table,  and 
lay  unconscious,  spread  out  in  a  broad  help- 
lessness that  made  the  girl  think  once  more 
of  spilled  ink. 

The  white-haired  man  stood  in  the  door- 
way to  the  other  room.  He  held  a  revolver, 
with  which  he  covered  Talpers,  but  the 
trader  did  not  move.  The  white-haired 
man  deftly  removed  Talpers's  revolver  from 
its  holster  and  put  it  on  the  table.  Then  he 
searched  the  trader's  pockets. 

"I'm  glad  I  didn't  have  to  shoot  this 
swine,"  he  said  to  the  girl.  "Another  sec- 
ond and  it  would  have  been  necessary. 
The  letter  is  n't  here,  but  you  can  frighten 


MYSTERY  RANCH  143 

him  with  these  trinkets  —  his  own  revolver 
and  this  watch  which  evidently  he  took 
from  the  murdered  man  on  the  hill.  You 
know  what  else  of  Edward  Sargent's  be- 
longings were  taken." 
li  The  girl  nodded. 

"He  will  recover  soon,"  went  on  the  gray- 
haired  man.  "You  will  be  in  no  further 
danger.  He  will  be  glad  to  go  when  he  sees 
what  evidence  you  have  against  him.'2 

The  white-haired  man  had  taken  a  watch 
from  one  of  Talpers's  pockets.  He  put  the 
timepiece  on  the  table  beside  the  trader's 
revolver.  Then  the  door  to  the  adjoining 
room  closed  again,  and  the  girl  was  alone 
with  the  trader  waiting  for  him  to  recover 
consciousness. 

Soon  Bill  Talpers  sat  up.  His  hand  went 
to  his  head  and  came  away  covered  with 
blood.  The  world  was  rocking,  and  the  girl 
at  the  table  looked  like  half  a  dozen  shapes 
in  one. 

"  This  is  your  own  revolver  pointed  at  you, 
Mr.  Talpers,"  she  said,  "but  this  watch  on 
the  table,  by  which  you  will  leave  this  house 


i44  MYSTERY  RANCH 

in  three  minutes,  is  not  yours.  It  belonged 
once  to  Edward  B.  Sargent,  and  you  are  the 
man  who  took  it." 

Talpers  tried  to  answer,  but  could  not  at 
once. 

"You  not  only  took  this  watch,"  said  the 
girl  slowly,  "but  you  took  money  from  that 
murdered  man." 

"It's  all  a  lie,"  growled  Bill  at  last. 

"Wait  till  you  hear  the  details.  You  took 
twenty-eight  hundred  dollars  in  large  bills, 
and  three  hundred  dollars  in  smaller  bills.'3 

Talpers  looked  at  the  girl  in  mingled 
terror  and  amazement.  Guilt  was  in  his 
face,  and  his  fears  made  him  forget  his 
aching  head. 

"You  kept  this  money  and  did  not  let 
your  half-breed  partner  in  crime  know  you 
had  found  it,"  went  on  the  girl.  "Also  you 
kept  the  watch,  and,  as  it  had  no  mark  of 
identification,  you  concluded  you  could 
safely  wear  it." 

Talpers  struggled  dizzily  to  his  feet. 

"It's  all  lies,"  he  repeated.  "I  didn't 
kill  that  man." 


MYSTERY  RANCH  145 

"You  might  find  it  hard  to  convince  a 
jury  that  you  did  not,  with  such  evidence 
against  you." 

The  trader  looked  at  the  watch  as  if  he 
intended  to  make  a  dash  to  recover  it,  but 
the  girl  kept  him  steadily  covered  with  his 
own  revolver.  Muttering  curses,  and  sway- 
ing uncertainly  on  his  feet,  Talpers  seized 
his  hat  and  rushed  from  the  house.  He 
could  be  heard  fumbling  with  the  reins  at 
the  gate,  and  then  the  sound  of  hoofs  came 
in  diminuendo  as  he  rode  away. 


CHAPTER  IX 

In  his  capacity  of  Indian  agent  Walter 
Lowell  often  had  occasion  to  scan  the  busi- 
ness deals  of  his  more  progressive  wards. 
He  was  at  once  banker  and  confidant  of 
most  of  the  Indians  who  were  getting  ahead 
in  agriculture  and  stock-raising.  He  did 
not  seek  such  a  position,  nor  did  he  dis- 
courage it.  Though  it  cost  him  much  extra 
time  and  work,  he  advised  the  Indians  when- 
ever requested. 

One  of  the  reservation's  most  prosperous 
stock-raisers,  who  had  been  given  permis- 
sion to  sell  off  some  of  his  cattle,  came  to 
Lowell  with  a  thousand-dollar  bill,  asking 
if  it  were  genuine. 

"It's  all  right,'3  said  Lowell,  "but  where 
did  you  get  it?" 

The  Indian  said  he  had  received  it  from 
Bill  Talpers  in  the  sale  of  some  live-stock. 
Lowell  handed  it  back  without  comment, 
but  soon  afterward  found  occasion  to  call 
on  Bill  Talpers  at  the  trader's  store. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  147 

Bill  had  been  a  frequent  and  impartial 
visitor  to  the  bottles  that  were  tucked  away 
at  both  ends  of  his  store.  His  hands  and 
voice  were  shaky.  His  hat  was  perched  well 
forward  on  his  head,  covering  a  patch  of 
court-plaster  which  his  clerk  had  put  over  a 
scalp  wound,  following  a  painful  process  of 
hair-cutting.  Bill  had  just  been  through 
the  process  of  "bouncing'  Andy  Wolters, 
who  remained  outside,  expressing  wonder 
and  indignation  to  all  who  called. 

"All  I  did  was  ask  Bill  where  his  favorite 
gun  was  gone,"  quoth  Andy  in  his  nasal 
voice,  as  Lowell  drove  up  to  the  store  plat- 
form. "I  never  seen  Bill  without  that  gun 
before  in  my  life.  I  jest  started  to  kid  him 
a  little  by  askin'  him  who  took  it  away  from 
him,  when  he  fired  up  and  thro  wed  me  out 
of  the  store." 

Lowell  stepped  inside  the  store. 
'Bill,'5   said  Lowell,  as  the  trader  rose 
from  his  chair  behind  the  screen  of  letter- 
boxes, "I  want  you  to  help  me  out  in  an 
important  matter." 

Bill's  surprise  showed  in  his  swollen  face. 


148  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"It's  this,"  went  on  Lowell.  "If  any  of 
the  Indians  bring  anything  here  to  pawn 
outside  of  the  usual  run  of  turquoise  jewelry 
and  spurs,  I  want  you  to  let  me  know.  Also 
if  they  offer  any  big  bills  in  payment  for 
goods  —  say  anything  like  a  thousand-dollar 
bill  —  just  give  me  the  high  sign,  will  you? 
It  may  afford  a  clue  in  this  murder  case." 

Talpers  darted  a  look  of  suspicion  at  the 
agent.  Lowell's  face  was  serene.  He  was 
leaning  confidentially  across  the  counter, 
and  his  eyes  met  Bill's  in  a  look  that  made 
the  trader  turn  away. 

'You  know,"  said  Lowell,  "it's  quite 
possible  that  money  and  valuables  were 
taken  from  Sargent's  body.  To  be  sure, 
they  found  his  checkbook  and  papers,  but 
they  would  n't  be  of  use  to  any  one  else. 
A  man  of  Sargent's  wealth  must  have  had 
considerable  ready  cash  with  him,  and  yet 
none  was  found.  He  would  hardly  be  likely 
to  start  out  on  a  long  trip  across  country 
without  a  watch,  and  yet  nothing  of  the 
sort  was  discovered.  That's  why  I  thought 
that  if  any  Indians  came  in  here  with  large 


MYSTERY  RANCH  149 

amounts  of  money,  or  if  they  tried  to  pawn 
valuables  which  might  have  belonged  to  a 
man  in  Sargent's  position,  you  could  help 
clear  up  matters." 

Hatred  and  suspicion  were  mingled  in 
Talpers's  look.  The  trader  had  spent  most 
of  his  hours,  since  his  return  from  Morgan's 
ranch,  cursing  the  folly  that  had  led  him 
into  wearing  Sargent's  watch.  And  now  came 
this  young  Indian  agent,  with  talk  about 
thousand-dollar  bills.  There  was  another 
mistake  Bill  had  made.  He  should  have 
taken  those  bills  far  away  and  had  them 
exchanged  for  money  of  smaller  denomina- 
tion. But  he  had  been  hard-pressed  for 
cash,  and  suspicion  seemed  to  point  in  such 
convincing  fashion  toward  Fire  Bear  and 
the  other  Indians  that  it  did  not  seem  pos- 
sible that  it  could  be  shifted  elsewhere.  Yet 
all  his  confidence  had  been  shaken  when 
Helen  Ervin  had  calmly  and  correctly  re- 
counted to  him  the  exact  things  that  he 
had  taken  from  that  body  on  the  hill.  Prob- 
ably she  had  been  talking  to  the  agent  and 
had  told  him  all  she  knew. 


150  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"I  know  what  you're  drivin'  at,"  snarled 
Bill,  his  rage  getting  the  better  of  his  judg- 
ment. "You've  been  talkin'  to  that  girl  at 
Morgan's  ranch,  and  she's  been  tellin'  you 
all  she  thinks  she  knows.  But  she'd  better 
go  slow  with  all  her  talk  about  valuables 
and  thousand-dollar  bills.  She  forgets  that 
she's  as  deep  in  this  thing  as  anybody  and 
I've  got  the  document  to  prove  it.'2 

The  surprise  in  the  Indian  agent's  face 
was  too  genuine  to  be  mistaken.  Talpers 
realized  that  he  had  been  betrayed  into 
overshooting  his  mark.  The  agent  had 
been  engaged  in  a  little  game  of  bluff,  and 
Talpers  had  fallen  into  his  trap. 

"All  this  is  mighty  interesting  to  me, 
Bill,"  said  Lowell,  regaining  his  composure. 
"I  just  dropped  in  here,  hoping  for  a  little 
general  cooperation  on  your  part,  and  here 
I  find  that  you  know  a  lot  more  than  any- 
body imagined." 

"You  ain't  got  anything  on  me,"  growled 
Bill,  "and  if  you  go  spillin'  any  remarks 
around  here,  it's  your  death-warrant  sure.'' 

Lowell  did  not  take  his  elbow  from  the 


MYSTERY  RANCH  151 

counter.  His  leaning  position  brought  out 
the  breadth  of  his  shoulders  and  emphasized 
the  athletic  lines  of  his  figure.  He  did  not 
seem  ruffled  at  Bill's  open  threat.  He  re- 
garded Talpers  with  a  steady  look  which 
increased  Bill's  rage  and  fear. 

"The  trouble  with  you  is  that  you're  so 
dead  set  on  protectin'  them  Injuns  of  yours," 
said  the  trader,  "that  you're  around  try  in' 
to  throw  suspicion  on  innocent  white  folks. 
The  hull  county  knows  that  Fire  Bear  done 
that  murder,  and  if  you  hadn't  got  him 
on  to  the  reservation  the  jail  'd  been  busted 
into  and  he'd  been  lynched  as  he  ought  to 
have  been." 

Bill  waited  for  an  answer,  but  none  came. 
The  young  agent's  steady,  thoughtful  scru- 
tiny was  not  broken. 

"You've  coddled  them  Injuns  ever  sence 
you've  been  on  the  job,"  went  on  Bill,  cast- 
ing aside  discretion,  "and  now  you're  en- 
couragin'  them  in  downright  murder.  Here 
this  young  cuss,  Fire  Bear,  is  traipsin' 
around  as  he  pleases,  on  nothin'  more  than 
his  word  that  he'll  appear  for  trial.   But 


152  MYSTERY  RANCH 

when  Jim  McFann  busts  out  of  jail,  you 
rush  out  the  hull  Injun  police  force  to  run 
him  down.  And  now  here  you  are  around, 
off  the  reservation,  tryin'  to  saddle  suspi- 
cion on  your  betters.  It  ain't  right,  I  claim. 
Self-respectin'  white  men  ought  to  have 
more  protection  around  here." 

Talpers's  voice  had  taken  on  something  of  a 
whine,  and  Lowell  straightened  up  in  disgust. 

"Bill,"  he  said,  "you  are  n't  as  much  of  a 
man  as  I  gave  you  credit  for  being,  and 
what's  more  you've  been  in  some  crooked 
game,  just  as  sure  as  thousand-dollar  bills 
have  four  figures  on  them." 

Paying  no  attention  to  the  imprecations 
which  Talpers  hurled  after  him,  the  agent 
went  back  to  his  automobile  and  turned 
toward  the  agency.  He  had  intended  going 
on  to  the  Greek  Letter  Ranch,  but  Talpers's 
words  had  caused  him  to  make  a  change  in 
his  plans.  At  the  agency  he  brought  out  a 
saddle  horse,  and,  following  a  trail  across 
the  undulating  hills  on  the  reservation, 
reached  the  wagon-road  below  the  ranch, 
without  arousing  Talpers's  suspicion. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  153 

As  he  tied  his  pony  at  the  gate,  Lowell 
noticed  further  improvement  in  the  general 
appearance  of  the  ranch. 

"Somebody  more  than  Wong  has  been 
doing  this  heavy  work,"  he  said  to  Helen, 
who  had  come  out  to  greet  him.  "It  must 
be  that  Morgan  —  your  stepfather  is  well 
enough  to  help.  Anyway,  the  ranch  looks 
better  every  time  I  come." 

"Yes,  he  is  helping  some,"  said  Helen 
uneasily.  "But  I'm  getting  to  be  a  first- 
rate  ranch- woman.  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so 
much  fun  running  a  place  like  this." 

"I  came  over  to  see  if  you  could  n't  take 
time  enough  off  for  a  little  horseback  ride," 
said  Lowell.  "This  is  a  country  for  the 
saddle,  after  all.  I  still  get  more  enjoyment 
from  a  good  horseback  ride  than  from  a 
dozen  automobile  trips.  I'll  saddle  up  the 
old  white  horse  while  you  get  ready.'3 

Helen  ran  indoors,  and  Lowell  went  to 
the  barn  and  proceeded  to  saddle  the  white 
horse  that  bore  the  Greek  Letter  brand. 
The  smiling  Wong  came  out  to  cast  an 
approving  eye  over  the  work. 


154  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"This  old  fly-fighter's  a  pretty  good 
horse  for  one  of  his  age,  is  n't  he,  Wong?" 
said  Lowell,  giving  a  last  shake  to  the  saddle, 
after  the  cinch  had  been  tightened. 

In  shattered  English  Wong  went  into 
ecstasies  over  the  white  horse.  Then  he 
said,  suddenly  and  mysteriously: 

"You  know  Talpels?" 

"You  mean  Bill  Talpers?"  asked  Lowell. 
"What  about  him?" 

Once  more  the  dominant  tongue  of  the 
Occident  staggered  beneath  Wong's  assault, 
as  the  cook  described,  partly  in  pantomime, 
the  manner  of  Bill  Talpers's  downfall  the 
night  before. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Talpers  was 
over  here  last  night  and  that  here  is  where 
he  got  that  scalp-wound?  "  demanded  Lowell. 

Wong  grinned  assent,  and  then  vanished, 
after  making  a  sign  calling  for  secrecy  on 
Lowell's  part,  as  Helen  arrived,  ready  for 
the  ride. 

Lowell  was  a  good  horseman,  and  the 
saddle  had  become  Helen's  chief  means  of 
recreation.   In  fact  riding  seemed  to  bring 


MYSTERY  RANCH  155 

to  her  the  only  contentment  she  had  known 
since  she  had  come  to  the  Greek  Letter 
Ranch.  She  had  overcome  her  first  fear  of 
the  Indians.  All  her  rides  that  were  taken 
alone  were  toward  the  reservation,  as  she 
had  studiously  avoided  going  near  Talpers's 
place.  Also  she  did  not  like  to  ride  past  the 
hill  on  the  Dollar  Sign  road,  with  its  hints 
of  unsolved  mystery.  But  she  had  quickly 
grown  to  love  the  broad,  free  Indian  reser- 
vation, with  its  limitless  miles  of  unfenced 
hills.  She  liked  to  turn  off  the  road  and 
gallop  across  the  trackless  ways,  sometimes 
frightening  rabbits  and  coyotes  from  the 
sagebrush.  Several  times  she  had  started 
antelope,  and  once  her  horse  had  shied  at  a 
rattlesnake  coiled  in  the  sunshine.  The  In- 
dians she  had  learned  to  look  upon  as  chil- 
dren. She  had  visited  the  cabins  and  lodges 
of  some  of  those  who  lived  near  the  ranch, 
and  was  not  long  in  winning  the  esteem  of 
the  women  who  were  finding  the  middle 
ground,  between  the  simplicity  of  savage 
life  and  the  complexities  of  civilization, 
something  too  much  for  mastery. 


156  MYSTERY  RANCH 

Lowell  and  Helen  galloped  in  silence  for 
miles  along  the  road  they  had  followed  in 
the  automobile  not  many  days  before.  At 
the  crest  of  a  high  ridge,  Helen  turned  at 
right  angles,  and  Lowell  followed. 

"There's  a  view  over  here  I  had  appro- 
priated for  myself,  but  I'm  willing  to  share 
it  with  you,  seeing  that  this  is  your  own 
particular  reservation  and  you  ought  to 
know  about  everything  it  contains,"  said 
Helen. 

The  ridge  dipped  and  then  rose  again, 
higher  than  before.  The  plains  fell  away 
on  both  sides  —  infinite  miles  of  undula- 
tions. Straight  ahead  loomed  the  high  blue 
wall  of  the  mountains.  They  walked  their 
horses,  and  finally  stopped  them  altogether. 
The  chattering  of  a  few  prairie  dogs  only 
served  to  intensify  the  great,  mysterious 
silence. 

"Sometimes  the  stillness  seems  to  roll 
in  on  you  here  like  a  tide,'3  said  Helen.  'I 
can  positively  feel  it  coming  up  these  great 
slopes  and  blanketing  everything.  It  seems 
to  me  that  this  ridge  must  have  been  used 


MYSTERY  RANCH  157 

by  Indian  watchers  in  years  gone  by.  I  can 
imagine  a  scout  standing  here  sending  up 
smoke  signals.  And  those  little  white  puffs 
of  clouds  up  there  are  the  signals  he  sent 
into  the  sky." 

"I  think  you  belong  in  this  country," 
Lowell  answered  smilingly. 

"I'm  sure  I  do.  You  remember  when  I 
first  saw  these  plains  and  hills  I  told  you 
the  bigness  frightened  me  a  little  when  the 
sun  brought  it  all  out  in  detail.  Well,  it 
does  n't  any  more.  Just  to  be  unfettered  in 
mind,  and  to  live  and  breathe  as  part  of 
all  this  vastness,  would  be  ideal." 

"That's  where  you're  in  danger  of  going 
to  the  other  extreme,'5  the  agent  replied. 
"You'll  remember  that  I  told  you  human 
companionship  is  as  necessary  as  bacon  and 
flour  and  salt  in  this  country.  You  're  more 
dependent  on  the  people  about  you  here, 
even  if  your  nearest  neighbor  is  five  or  ten 
miles  away,  than  you  would  be  in  any  apart- 
ment building  in  a  big  city.  You  might  live 
and  die  there,  and  no  one  would  be  the 
wiser.   Also  you  might  get  along  tolerably 


158  MYSTERY  RANCH 

well,  while  living  alone.  But  you  can't  do 
it  out  here  and  keep  a  normal  mental  grip 
on  life." 

"My,  what  a  lecture!"  laughed  the  girl, 
though  there  was  no  merriment  in  her  voice. 
"But  it  hardly  applies  to  me,  for  the  reason 
that  I  always  depend  upon  my  neighbors 
in  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life.  I'm  sure  I 
love  to  be  sociable  to  my  Indian  neighbors, 
and  even  to  their  agent.  Have  n't  I  ridden 
away  out  here  just  to  be  sociable  to  you?' 

"  No  dodging !  I  promised  I  would  n't  say 
anything  more  about  the  matters  that  have 
been  disturbing  you  so,  but  that  promise  was 
contingent  on  your  playing  fair  with  me.  I 
understand  Bill  Talpers  has  been  causing 
you  some  annoyance,  and  you  have  n't  said 
a  word  to  me  about  it." 

Helen  flashed  a  startled  glance  at  Lowell. 
He  was  impassive  as  her  questioning  eyes 
searched  his  face.  Amazement  and  concern 
alternated  in  her  features.  Then  she  took 
refuge  in  a  blaze  of  anger. 

"I  don't  know  how  you  found  out  about 
Talpers!"  she  cried.    "It  is  true  that  he  did 


MYSTERY  RANCH  159 

cause  a  —  a  little  annoyance,  but  that  is  all 
gone  and  forgotten.  But  I  am  not  going  to 
forget  your  impertinence  quite  so  easily.'3 

"My  what?" 

"Your  impertinence?" 

The  girl  was  trembling  with  anger,  or 
apprehension,  and  tapped  her  boot  nerv- 
ously with  her  quirt  as  she  spoke. 

"You've  been  lecturing  me  about  various 
things,"  she  went  on,  "and  now  you  bring 
up  Talpers  as  a  sort  of  bugaboo  to  frighten 


me." 


"You  don't  know  Bill  Talpers.  If  he  has 
any  sort  of  hold  on  you  or  on  Willis  Morgan, 
he'll  try  to  break  you  both.  He  is  as  inno- 
cent of  scruples  as  a  lobo  wolf." 

"What  hold  could  he  possibly  have  on 
me  — on  us?" 

She  looked  at  Lowell  defiantly  as  she 
asked  the  question,  but  he  thought  he  de- 
tected a  note  of  concern  in  her  voice. 

"I  did  n't  say  he  had  any  hold.  I  merely 
pointed  out  that  if  he  were  given  any  oppor- 
tunity he'd  make  life  miserable  for  both  of 

you." 


160  MYSTERY  RANCH 

Lowell  did  not  add  that  Talpers,  in  a  fit 
of  rage  and  suspicion,  augmented  by  strong 
drink,  had  hinted  that  Helen  knew  some- 
thing of  the  murder.  He  had  been  inclined 
to  believe  that  Talpers  had  merely  been 
"fighting  wild"  when  he  made  the  veiled 
accusation  —  that  the  trader,  being  very 
evidently  only  partly  recovered  from  a  bout 
with  his  pet  bottles,  had  made  the  first 
counter-assertion  that  had  come  into  his 
head  in  the  hope  of  provoking  Lowell  into 
a  quarrel.  But  there  was  a  quality  of  ter- 
ror in  the  girl's  voice  which  struck  Lowell 
with  chilling  force.  Something  in  his  look 
must  have  caught  Helen 's  attention,  for  her 
nervousness   increased. 

"You  have  no  right  to  pillory  me  so," 
she  said  rapidly.  "You  have  been  per- 
fectly impossible  right  along  —  that  is,  ever 
since  this  crime  happened.  You've  been 
spying  here  and  there  — " 

"Spying!" 

"Yes,  downright  spying!  You've  been 
putting  suspicion  where  it  does  n't  belong. 
Why,  everybody  believes  the  Indians  did 


MYSTERY  RANCH  161 

it  —  everybody  but  you.  Probably  some 
Indians  did  it  who  never  have  been  suspected 
and  never  will  be  —  not  the  Indians  who 
are  under  suspicion  now." 

"That's  just  about  what  another  party 
was  telling  me  not  long  ago  —  that  I  was 
coddling  the  Indians  and  trying  to  fasten 
suspicion  where  it  did  n't  rightfully  belong.'3 
"Who  else  told  you  that?" 
"No  less  a  person  than  Bill  Talpers." 
"There  you  go  again,  bringing  in  that 
cave  man.  Why  do  you  keep  talking  to  me 
about  Talpers?  I'm  not  afraid  of  him." 

Most  girls  would  have  been  on  the  verge 
of  hysteria,  Lowell  thought,  but,  while 
Helen  was  plainly  under  a  nervous  strain, 
her  self-command  returned.  The  agent  was 
in  possession  of  some  information  —  how 
much  she  did  not  know.  Perhaps  she  could 
goad  him  into  betraying  the  source  of  his 
knowledge. 

"I  know  you're  not  afraid  of  Talpers,"  re- 
marked Lowell,  after  a  pause,  "but  at  least 
give  me  the  privilege  of  being  afraid  for  you. 
I  know  Bill  Talpers  better  than  you  do." 


1 62  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"What  right  have  you  to  be  afraid  for 
me?  I'm  of  age,  and  besides,  I  have  a 
protector  —  a  guardian  —  at  the  ranch.' ' 

Lowell  was  on  the  point  of  making  some 
bitter  reply  about  the  undesirability  of  any 
guardianship  assumed  by  Willis  Morgan, 
squaw  man,  recluse,  and  recipient  of  com- 
mon hatred  and  contempt.  But  he  kept 
his  counsel,  and  remarked,  pleasantly: 

"My  rights  are  merely  those  of  a  neigh- 
bor —  the  right  of  one  neighbor  to  help 
another." 

"There  are  no  rights  of  that  sort  where 
the  other  neighbor  is  n't  asking  any  help 
and  does  n't  desire  it." 

"I'm  not  sure  about  your  not  needing  it. 
Anyway,  if  you  don't  now,  you  may  later.'2 

The  girl  did  not  answer.  The  horses  were 
standing  close  together,  heads  drooping 
lazily.  Warm  breezes  came  fitfully  from  the 
winds'  playground  below.  The  handker- 
chief at  the  girl's  neck  fluttered,  and  a  strand 
of  her  hair  danced  and  glistened  in  the  sun- 
shine. The  graceful  lines  of  her  figure  were 
brought  out  by  her  riding-suit.   Lowell  put 


MYSTERY  RANCH  163 

his  palm  over  the  gloved  hand  on  her  saddle 
pommel.  Even  so  slight  a  touch  thrilled  him. 

"If  a  neighbor  has  no  right  to  give  ad- 
vice," said  Lowell,  "let  us  assume  that  my 
unwelcome  offerings  have  come  from  a  man 
who  is  deeply  in  love  with  you.  It's  no 
great  secret,  anyway,  as  it  seems  to  me  that 
even  the  meadow-larks  have  been  singing 
about  it  ever  since  we  started  on  this  ride.'3 

The  girl  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 
Lowell  put  his  arm  about  her  waist,  and  she 
drooped  toward  him,  but  recovered  herself 
with  an  effort.  Putting  his  arm  away,  she  said : 

"You  make  matters  harder  and  harder 
for  me.  Please  forget  what  I  have  said  and 
what  you  have  said,  and  don't  come  to  see 
me  any  more." 

She  spoke  with  a  quiet  intensity  that 
amazed  Lowell. 

"Not  come  to  see  you  any  more!  Why 
such  an  extreme  sentence?" 

*  Because  there  is  an  evil  spell  on  the 
Greek  Letter  Ranch.  Everybody  who  comes 
there  is  certain  to  be  followed  by  trouble  — 
deep  trouble." 


1 64  MYSTERY  RANCH 

The  girl's  agitation  increased.  There  was 
terror  in  her  face. 

*  *  Look  here ! ' '  began  Lowell .  ' '  This  thing 
is  beyond  all  promises  of  silence.   I  — ' 

"Don't  ask  what  I  mean!"  said  the  girl. 
"You  might  find  it  awkward.  You  say  you 
are  in  love  with  me?" 

I  repeat  it  a  thousand  times." 
Well,  you  are  the  kind  of  man  who  will 
choose  honor  every  time.  I  realize  that 
much.  Suppose  you  found  that  your  love 
for  me  was  bringing  you  in  direct  conflict 
with  your  duty?" 

"I  know  that  such  a  thing  is  impossible," 
broke  in  Lowell. 

Helen  smiled,  bitterly. 

"It  is  so  far  from  being  impossible  that  I 
am  asking  you  to  forget  what  you  have  said, 
and  to  forget  me  as  well.  There  is  so  much 
of  evil  on  the  Greek  Letter  Ranch  that  the 
very  soil  there  is  steeped  in  it.  I  am  going 
away,  but  I  know  its  spell  will  follow  me.'1 

"You  are  going?"  queried  Lowell. 
"When?" 

"When  these  men  now  charged  with  the 


MYSTERY  RANCH  165 

murder  are  acquitted.  They  will  be  ac- 
quitted, will  they  not?  " 

The  eager  note  in  her  question  caught 
Lowell  by  surprise. 

" No  man  can  tell,"  he  replied.  "It 's  all  as 
inscrutable  as  that  mountain  wall  over  there.'3 

Helen  shaded  her  eyes  with  her  gauntleted 
hand  as  she  looked  in  the  direction  indicated 
by  Lowell.  Black  clouds  were  pouring  in 
masses  over  the  mountain-range.  The  sun- 
shine was  being  blotted  out,  as  if  by  some 
giant  hand.  The  storm-clouds  swept  toward 
them  as  they  turned  the  horses  and  started 
back  along  the  ridge.  A  huge  shadow,  which 
Helen  shudderingly  likened  to  the  sprawl- 
ing figure  of  Talpers  in  the  lamplight,  raced 
toward  them  over  the  plains. 

"There  is  n't  a  storm  in  all  that  black- 
ness," Lowell  assured  her.  "  It 's  all  shadow 
and  no  substance.  Perhaps  your  fears  will 
turn  out  that  way." 

The  girl  regarded  him  gravely. 

"I've  tried  to  hope  as  much,  but  it's  no 
use,  especially  when  you've  felt  the  first 
actual  buffe tings  of  the  storm." 


1 66  MYSTERY  RANCH 

The  approaching  cloud  shadow  seemed 
startlingly  solid.  The  girl  urged  her  horse 
into  a  gallop,  and  Lowell  rode  silently  at  her 
side.  The  shadow  overtook  them.  Angry 
winds  seemed  to  clutch  at  them  from  various 
angles,  but  no  rain  came  from  the  cloud  mass 
overhead.  When  they  rode  into  the  ranch 
3rard,  the  sun  was  shining  again.  They  dis- 
mounted near  the  barn,  and  Wong  took  the 
white  horse.  Lowell  and  the  girl  walked 
through  the  yard  to  the  front  gate,  the 
agent  leading  his  horse.  As  they  passed 
near  the  porch  there  came  through  the  open 
door  that  same  chilling,  sarcastic  voice 
which  stirred  all  the  ire  in  Lowell's  nature. 

"Helen,"  the  voice  said,  "that  careless 
individual,  Wong,  must  be  reprimanded. 
He  has  mislaid  one  of  my  choicest  volumes. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  better  for  you  to  attend 
to  replacing  the  books  on  the  shelves  after 
this/' 

Every  word  was  intended  to  humiliate, 
yet  the  voice  was  moderately  pitched. 
There  was  even  a  slight  drawl  to  it. 

Lowell's  face  betrayed  his  anger  as  he 


MYSTERY  RANCH  167 

glanced  at  the  girl.  He  made  a  gesture  of 
impatience,  but  Helen  motioned  to  him, 
in  warning. 

'Some  day  you're  going  to  let  me  take 
you  away  from  this,"  he  said  grimly,  looking 
at  her  with  an  intensity  of  devotion  which 
brought  the  red  to  her  cheeks.  "Meantime, 
thanks  for  taking  me  out  on  that  magic 
ridge.   I'll  never  forget  it." 

"It  will  be  better  for  you  to  forget  every- 
thing," answered  the  girl. 

Lowell  was  about  to  make  a  reply,  when 
the  voice  came  once  more,  cutting  like  a 
whiplash  in  a  renewal  of  the  complaint  con- 
cerning the  lost  book.  The  girl  turned,  with 
a  good-bye  gesture,  and  ran  indoors.  Lowell 
led  his  horse  outside  the  yard  and  rode 
toward  Talpers's  place,  determined  to  have 
a  few  definite  words  with  the  trader. 

When  Lowell  reached  Talpers's,  the  usual 
knot  of  Indians  was  gathered  on  the  front 
porch,  with  the  customary  collection  of  cow- 
punchers  and  ranchmen  discussing  matters 
inside  the  store. 

"Bill  ain't  been  here  all  the  afternoon," 


168  MYSTERY  RANCH 

said  Talpers's  clerk  in  answer  to  Lowell's 
question.  "He  sat  around  here  for  a  while 
after  you  left  this  morning,  and  then  he 
saddled  up  and  took  a  pack-horse  and  hit 
off  toward  the  reservation,  but  I  don't  know 
where  he  went  or  when  he'll  be  back." 

Lowell  rode  thoughtfully  to  the  agency, 
trying  in  vain  to  bridge  the  gap  between 
Talpers's  cryptic  utterances  bearing  on  the 
murder,  and  the  not  less  cryptic  statements 
of  Helen  in  the  afternoon  —  an  occupation 
which  kept  him  unprofitably  employed  un- 
til far  into  the  night. 


CHAPTER  X 

Bill  Talpers's  return  to  sobriety  was 
considerably  hastened  by  alarm  after  the 
trader's  words  with  Lowell.  As  long  as  mat- 
ters were  even  between  Bill  Talpers  and  the 
girl,  the  trader  figured  that  he  could  at  least 
afford  to  let  things  rest.  The  letter  in  his 
possession  was  still  a  potent  weapon.  He 
could  at  least  prevent  the  girl  from  telling 
what  she  seemed  to  know  of  the  trader's 
connection  with  the  murder.  He  had  figured 
that  the  letter  would  be  the  means  of  bring- 
ing him  a  most  engaging  bride.  It  would 
have  done  so  if  he  had  not  been  such  a  fool 
as  to  drink  too  much.  Talpers  usually  was 
a  canny  drinker,  but  when  a  man  goes  ask- 
ing —  or,  in  this  case,  demanding  —  a  girl's 
hand  in  marriage,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at 
if  he  oversteps  the  limit  a  trifle  in  the  matter 
of  fortifying  himself  with  liquor.  But  in  this 
case  Bill  realized  that  he  had  gone  beyond 
all  reasonable  bounds.  That  fall  had  been 


170  MYSTERY  RANCH 

disastrous  in  every  way.  She  was  clever  and 
quick,  that  girl,  or  she  never  would  have 
been  able  to  turn  an  incident  like  that  to 
such  good  advantage.  Most  girls  would 
have  sniveled  in  a  corner,  thought  Bill,  until 
he  had  regained  his  senses,  but  she  started 
right  in  to  look  for  that  letter.  He  had  been 
smart  enough  to  leave  the  letter  in  the  safe 
at  the  store,  but  she  had  found  plenty  in 
that  watch! 

Another  thought  buzzed  disturbingly  in 
Bill's  head.  How  did  she  know  just  how 
much  money  had  been  taken  from  Sargent's 
body?  Also,  how  didj'she  know  that  the 
watch  was  Sargent's,  seeing  that  it  had  no 
marks  of  identification  on  it?  If  there  had 
been  so  much  as  a  scratch  on  the  thing, 
Talpers  never  would  have  worn  it.  She 
might  have  been  making  a  wild  guess  about 
the  watch,  but  she  certainly  was  not  guess- 
ing about  the  money.  Her  certainty  in 
mentioning  the  amount  had  given  Bill  a 
chill  of  terror  from  which  he  was  slow  in 
recovering.  Another  thing  that  was  causing 
him  real  agony  of  spirit  was  the  prominence 


MYSTERY  RANCH  171 

of  Lowell  in  affairs  at  the  Greek  Letter 
Ranch.  It  would  be  easy  enough  to  hold 
the  girl  in  check  with  that  letter.  She  would 
never  dare  tell  the  authorities  how  much  she 
knew  about  Talpers,  as  Bill  could  drag  her 
into  the  case  by  producing  his  precious  doc- 
umentary evidence.  But  the  agent — how 
much  was  he  learning  in  the  course  of  his 
persistent  searching,  and  from  what  angle 
was  he  going  to  strike?  Would  the  girl  pro- 
vide him  with  information  which  she  might 
not  dare  give  to  others?  Women  were  all 
weaklings,  thought  Bill,  unable  to  keep  any 
sort  of  a  secret  from  a  sympathetic  male  ear, 
especially  when  that  ear  belonged  to  as 
handsome  a  young  fellow  as  the  Indian 
agent!  Probably  she  would  be  telling  the 
agent  everything  on  his  next  trip  to  the 
ranch.  Bill  had  been  watching,  but  he  had 
not  seen  the  young  upstart  from  the  agency 
go  past,  and  neither  had  Bill 's  faithful  clerk. 
But  the  visit  might  be  made  any  day,  and 
Talpers's  connection  with  the  tragedy  on 
the  Dollar  Sign  road  might  at  almost  any 
hour  be  falling  into  the  possession  of  Lowell, 


172  MYSTERY  RANCH 

whose  activity  in  running  down  bootleggers 
had  long  ago  earned  him  Bill's  hatred. 

Something  would  have  to  be  done,  with- 
out delay,  to  get  the  girl  where  she  would 
not  be  making  a  confidant  of  Lowell  or  any 
one  else.  Scowlingly  Bill  thought  over  one 
plan  after  another,  and  rejected  each  as  im- 
practical. Finally,  by  a  process  of  elimina- 
tion, he  settled  on  the  only  course  that 
seemed  practical.  A  broad  fist,  thudding 
into  a  leather-like  palm,  indicated  that  the 
Talpers  mind  had  been  made  up.  With  his 
dark  features  expressing  grim  resolve,  Bill 
threw  a  burden  of  considerable  size  on  his 
best  pack-animal.  This  operation  he  con- 
ducted alone  in  the  barn,  rejecting  his  clerk's 
proffer  of  assistance.  Then  he  saddled  an- 
other horse,  and,  without  telling  his  clerk 
anything  concerning  his  prospective  where- 
abouts or  the  length  of  his  trip,  started  off 
across  the  prairie.  He  often  made  such  ex- 
cursions, and  his  clerk  had  learned  not  to 
ask  questions.  Diplomacy  in  such  matters 
was  partly  what  the  clerk  was  paid  for.  A 
good  fellow  to  work  for  was  Bill  Talpers  if 


MYSTERY  RANCH  173 

no  one  got  too  curiously  inclined.  One  or 
two  clerks  had  been  disciplined  on  account 
of  inquisitiveness,  and  they  would  not  be 
as  beautiful  after  the  Talpers  methods  had 
been  applied,  but  they  had  gained  vastly 
in  experience.  Some  day  he  would  do  even 
more  for  this  young  Indian  agent.  Bill's 
cracked  lips  were  stretched  in  a  grin  of 
satisfaction  at  the  very  thought. 

The  trader  traveled  swiftly  toward  the 
reservation.  He  often  boasted  that  he  got 
every  ounce  that  was  available  in  horse- 
flesh. Traveling  with  a  pack-horse  was  little 
handicap  to  him.  Horses  instinctively  feared 
him.  More  than  one  he  had  driven  to  death 
without  so  much  as  touching  the  strain- 
ing animal  with  whip  or  spur.  Nothing 
gave  Bill  such  acute  satisfaction  as  the 
knowledge  that  he  had  roused  fear  in  any 
creature. 

With  the  sweating  pack-animal  close  at 
the  heels  of  his  saddle  pony,  Talpers  rode 
for  hours  across  the  plains.  Seemingly  he 
paid  no  attention  to  the  changes  in  the  land- 
scape, yet  his  keen  eyes,  buried  deeply  be- 


i74  MYSTERY  RANCH 

neath  black  brows,  took  in  everything.  He 
saw  the  cloud  masses  come  tumbling  over 
the  mountains,  but,  like  Lowell,  he  knew 
that  the  drought  was  not  yet  to  be  ended. 
The  country  became  more  broken,  and  the 
grade  so  pronounced  that  the  horses  were 
compelled  to  slacken  their  pace.  The  pleas- 
ant green  hills  gave  place  to  imprisoning 
mesas,  with  red  sides  that  looked  like  bat- 
tlements. Beyond  these  lay  the  foothills  — 
so  close  that  they  covered  the  final  slopes 
of  the  mountains. 

It  was  a  lonely  country,  innocent  of 
fences.  The  cattle  that  ran  here  were  as  wild 
as  deer  and  almost  as  fleet  as  antelope. 
Twice  a  year  the  Indians  rounded  up  their 
range  possessions,  but  many  of  these  cattle 
had  escaped  the  far-flung  circles  of  riders. 
They  had  become  renegades  and  had  grown 
old  and  clever.  At  the  sight  of  a  human  be- 
ing they  would  gallop  away  in  the  sage  and 
greasewood. 

Once  Talpers  saw  the  gleam  of  a  wagon- 
top  which  indicated  the  presence  of  a  wolf 
hunter  in  the  employ  of  the  leasers  who  were 


MYSTERY  RANCH  175 

running  cattle  on  the  reservations  and  who 
suffered  much  from  the  depredations  of 
predatory  animals.  By  working  carefully 
around  a  hill,  the  trader  continued  on  his 
way  without  having  been  seen. 

Passing  the  flanking  line  of  mesas,  Bill 
pushed  his  way  up  a  watercourse  between 
two  foothills.  The  going  became  rougher, 
and  all  semblance  of  a  trail  was  lost,  yet  the 
trader  went  on  unhesitatingly.  The  slopes 
!eading  to  the  creek  became  steeper  and 
were  covered  with  pine  and  quaking  aspen, 
instead  of  the  bushy  growths  of  the  plains. 
The  stream  foamed  over  rocks,  and  its 
noise  drowned  the  sound  of  the  horses'  hoofs 
as  the  animals  scrambled  over  the  occa- 
sional stretches  of  loose  shale.  With  the 
dexterity  of  the  born  trailsman,  Talpers 
wormed  his  way  along  the  stream  when  it 
seemed  as  if  further  progress  would  be  im- 
possible. In  a  tiny  glade,  with  the  moun- 
tain walls  rising  precipitously  for  hundreds 
of  feet,  Talpers  halted  and  gave  three  shrill 
whistles.  An  answer  came  from  the  other 
end  of  the  glade,  and  in  a  few  minutes  Tal- 


176  MYSTERY  RANCH 

pers  was  removing  pack  and  saddle  in  Jim 
McFann's  camp. 

Since  his  escape  from  jail  the  half-breed 
had  been  hiding  in  this  mountain  fastness. 
Talpers  had  supplied  him  with  "grub"  and 
weapons.  He  had  moved  camp  once  in  a 
while  for  safety's  sake,  but  had  felt  little 
fear  of  capture.  As  a  trailer  McFann  had 
few  equals,  and  he  knew  every  swale  in  the 
prairie  and  every  nook  in  the  mountains 
on  the  reservation. 

Talpers  brought  out  a  bottle,  which 
McFann  seized  eagerly. 

"There's  plenty  more  in  the  pack,"  said 
the  trader,  "so  drink  all  you  want.  Don't 
offer  me  none,  as  I  am  kind  o'  taperin'  off." 

"Did  you  see  any  Indian  police  on  the 
way?"  asked  the  half-breed. 

"No — nothin'  but  Wolfer  Joe's  wagon, 
'way  off  in  the  hills.  I  guess  the  police  ain't 
lookin'  for  you  very  hard.  That  ain't  the 
fault  of  the  agent,  though,"  added  Talpers 
meaningly.  "He's  promised  he'll  have  you 
back  in  Tom  Redmond's  hands  in  less'n  a 
week." 


MYSTERY  RANCH  177 

The  half-breed  scowled  and  muttered  an 
oath  as  he  took  another  drink.  Talpers  had 
told  the  lie  in  order  to  rouse  McFann's  an- 
tagonism toward  Lowell,  and  he  was  pleased 
to  see  that  his  statement  had  been  accepted 
at  face  value. 

"But  that  ain't  the  worst  for  you,  nor  for 
me  either,"  went  on  the  trader.  "That  girl 
at  the  Greek  Letter  Ranch  knows  that  you 
and  me  took  the  watch  from  the  man  on  the 
Dollar  Sign  road." 

"How  did  she  know  that?"  exclaimed 
McFann  in  amazement. 

"That's  somethin'  she  won't  tell,  but  she 
knows  that  you  and  me  was  there,  and  that 
the  story  you  told  in  court  ain't  straight. 
I  'm  satisfied  she  ain't  told  any  one  else  — 
not  yet." 

"Do  you  think  she  will  tell  any  one?" 

"I'm  sure  of  it.  You  see,  she  sorter 
sprung  this  thing  on  me  when  I  was  havin'  a 
little  argyment  about  her  marryin'  me.  She 
got  spiteful  and  come  at  me  with  the  state- 
ment that  the  watch  I  was  wearin'  belonged 
to  that  feller  Sargent." 


178  MYSTERY  RANCH 

Bill  did  not  add  anything  about  the 
money.  It  was  not  going  to  do  to  let  the 
half-breed  know  he  had  been  defrauded. 

McFann  squatted  by  the  fire,  the  bottle 
in  his  hand  and  his  gaze  on  Talpers's  face. 

"She  mentioned  both  of  us  bein'  there," 
went  on  the  trader.  "She  give  the  details 
in  a  way  that  I  '11  admit  took  me  off  my  feet. 
It 's  an  awkward  matter  —  in  fact,  it 's  a 
hangin'  matter  —  for  both  of  us,  if  she  tells. 
You  know  how  clost  they  was  to  lynchin' 
you,  over  there  at  White  Lodge,  with 
nothin'  so  very  strong  against  you.  If  that 
gang  ever  hears  about  us  and  this  watch  of 
Sargent's,  we'll  be  hung  on  the  same  tree.': 

Talpers  played  heavily  on  the  lynching, 
because  he  knew  the  fear  of  the  mob  had 
become  an  obsession  with  McFann.  He  no- 
ticed the  half-breed's  growing  uneasiness, 
and  played  his  big  card. 

"I  spent  a  long  time  thinkin'  the  hull 
thing  over,"  said  Talpers,  "and  I've  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  this  girl  is  sure  to  tell 
the  Indian  agent  all  she  knows,  and  the  best 
thing  for  us  to  do  is  to  get  her  out  of  the  way 


MYSTERY  RANCH  179 

before  she  puts  the  noose  around  our  necks." 
rrj  "Why  will  she  tell  the  Indian  agent?" 

"Because  he's  callin'  pretty  steady  at  the 
ranch,  and  he's  made  her  think  he's  the 
only  friend  she's  got  around  here.  And  as 
soon  as  he  finds  out,  we  might  as  well  pick 
out  our  own  rope  neckties,  Jim.  It's  goin' 
to  take  quick  action  to  save  us,  but  you're 
the  one  to  do  it." 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?'  asked 
McFann  suspiciously. 

"  Well,  you  're  the  best  trailer  and  as  good 
a  shot  as  there  is  in  this  part  of  the  coun- 
try. All  that's  necessary  is  for  you  to  drop 
around  the  ranch  and  —  well,  sort  of  make 
that  girl  disappear." 

"How  do  you  mean?" 

Talpers  rose  and  came  closer  to  McFann. 

"I  mean  kill  her!"  he  said  with  an  oath. 
"No thin'  else  is  goin'  to  do.  You  can  do  it 
without  leavin'  a  track.  Willis  Morgan  or 
that  Chinaman  never '11  see  you  around. 
Nobody  else  but  the  agent  ever  stops  at  the 
Greek  Letter  Ranch.  It 's  the  only  safe  way. 
If  she  ever  tells,  Jim,  you'll  never  come  to 


180  MYSTERY  RANCH 

trial.  You'll  be  swingin'  back  and  forth 
somewheres  to  the  music  of  the  prairie 
breeze.  You  know  the  only  kind  of  fruit 
that  grows  on  these  cotton  woods  out  here.,, 

Jim  McFann  had  always  been  pliable  in 
Talpers's  hands.  Talpers  had  profited  most 
by  the  bootlegging  operations  carried  on  by 
the  pair,  though  Jim  had  done  most  of  the 
dangerous  work.  Whenever  Jim  needed 
supplies,  the  trader  furnished  them.  To  be 
sure,  he  charged  them  off  heavily,  so  there 
was  little  cash  left  from  the  half-breed's 
bootlegging  operations.  Talpers  shrewdly 
figured  that  the  less  cash  he  gave  Jim,  the 
more  surely  he  could  keep  his  hold  on  the 
half-breed.  McFann  had  grown  used  to  his 
servitude.  Talpers  appeared  to  him  in  the 
guise  of  the  only  friend  he  possessed  among 
white  and  red. 

Jim  rose  slowly  to  his  moccasined  feet. 

"I  guess  you're  right,  Bill,"  he  said. 
"I'll  do  what  you  say." 

The  trader's  eyes  glowed  with  satisfac- 
tion. The  desire  for  revenge  had  come  up- 
permost in  his  heart.   The  girl  at  the  ranch 


MYSTERY  RANCH  181 

had  outwitted  him  in  some  way  which  he 
could  not  understand.  Twenty-four  hours 
ago  he  had  confidently  figured  on  number- 
ing her  among  the  choicest  chattels  in  the 
possession  of  William  Talpers.  But  now  he 
regarded  her  with  a  hatred  born  of  fear. 
The  thought  of  what  she  could  do  to  him, 
merely  by  speaking  a  few  careless  words 
about  that  watch  and  money,  drove  all 
other  thoughts  from  Talpers 's  mind.  Jim 
McFann  could  be  made  a  deadly  and  cer- 
tain instrument  for  insuring  the  safety  of 
the  Talpers  skin.  One  shot  from  the  half- 
breed's  rifle,  either  through  a  cabin  window 
or  from  some  sagebrush  covert  near  the 
ranch,  and  the  trader  need  have  no  further 
fears  about  being  connected  with  the  Dollar 
Sign  murder. 

"I  thought  you'd  see  it  in  the  right  light, 
Jim,"  approved  Talpers.  "It  won't  be  any 
trick  at  all  to  get  her.  She  rides  out  a  good 
deal  on  that  white  horse." 

Jim  McFann  did  not  answer.  He  had 
begun  preparations  for  his  trip.  Swiftly  and 
silently  the  half-breed  saddled  his  horse, 


1 82  MYSTERY  RANCH 

which  had  been  hidden  in  a  near-by  thicket. 
From  the  supply  of  liquor  in  Talpers's  pack, 
Jim  took  a  bottle,  which  he  was  thrusting 
into  his  saddle  pocket  when  the  trader 
snatched  it  away. 

"You've    had    enough,    Jim,"    growled 
Talpers.    "You  do  the  work  that's  cut  out 
for  you,  and  you  can  have  all  I've  brought 
to  camp.   I'll  be  here  waitin'  for  you." 
g,  McFann  scowled. 

r  "All  right,"  he  said  sullenly,  "but  it 
seems  as  if  a  man  ought  to  have  lots  for  a 
job  like  this." 

"After  it's  all  done,"  said  Talpers  sooth- 
ingly, "you  can  have  all  the  booze  you  want, 
Jim.  And  one  thing  more,"  called  the 
trader  as  McFann  rode  away,  "remember 
it  ain't  goin'  to  hurt  either  of  us  if  you  get 
a  chance  to  put  the  Indian  agent  away  on 
this  same  little  trip." 

Jim  McFann  waved  an  assenting  sign  as 
he  disappeared  in  the  trees,  and  the  trader 
went  back  to  the  camp-fire  to  await  the 
half-breed's  return.  He  hoped  McFann 
would  find  the  agent  at  the  Greek  Letter 


/MYSTERY  RANCH  183 

Ranch  and  would  kill  Lowell  as  well  as  the 
girl.  But,  if  there  did  not  happen  to  be  any 
such  double  stroke  of  luck  in  prospect,  the 
removal  of  the  Indian  agent  could  be  at- 
tended to  later  on. 

When  he  reached  the  mesas  beyond  the 
foothills,  the  half-breed  turned  away  from 
the  stream  and  struck  off  toward  the  left. 
He  kept  a  sharp  lookout  for  Indian  police 
as  he  traveled,  but  saw  nothing  to  cause 
apprehension.  Night  was  fast  coming  on 
when  he  reached  the  ridge  on  which  Lowell 
and  Helen  had  stood  a  few  hours  before. 
Avoiding  the  road,  the  half-breed  made  his 
way  to  a  gulch  near  the  ranch,  where  he  tied 
his  horse.  Cautiously  he  approached  the 
ranch-house.  The  kitchen  door  was  open 
and  Wong  was  busy  with  the  dishes.  The 
other  doors  were  shut  and  shades  were 
drawn  in  the  windows.  Making  his  way 
back  to  the  gulch,  the  half-breed  rolled  up 
in  his  blanket  and  slept  till  daybreak,  when 
he  took  up  a  vantage-point  near  the  house 
and  waited  developments.  Shortly  after 
breakfast  Wong  came  out  to  the  barn  and 


1 84  MYSTERY  RANCH 

saddled  the  white  horse  for  Helen.  The 
half-breed  noticed  with  satisfaction  that  the 
girl  rode  directly  toward  the  reservation 
instead  of  following  the  road  that  led  to 
the  agency.  Hastily  securing  his  horse  the 
half-breed  skirted  the  ranch  and  located  the 
girl's  trail  on  the  prairie.  Instead  of  follow- 
ing it  he  ensconced  himself  comfortably  in 
some  aspens  at  the  bottom  of  a  draw,  con- 
fident that  the  girl  would  return  by  the 
same  trail. 

If  McFann  had  continued  on  Helen's 
trail  he  would  have  followed  her  to  an  In- 
dian ranch  not  far  away.  A  tattered  tepee 
or  two  snuggled  against  a  dilapidated  cabin. 
The  owner  of  the  ranch  was  struggling  with 
tuberculosis.  His  wife  was  trying  to  run 
the  place  and  to  bring  up  several  children, 
whose  condition  had  aroused  the  mother 
instinct  in  Helen.  Though  she  had  found 
her  first  efforts  regarded  with  suspicion, 
Helen  had  persisted,  until  she  had  won  the 
confidence  of  mother  and  children.  Her  vis- 
its were  frequent,  and  she  had  helped  the 
family  so  materially  that  she  had  astonished 


MYSTERY  RANCH  185 

the  field  matron,  an  energetic  woman  who 
covered  enormous  distances  in  the  saddle 
in  the  fulfillment  of  duties  which  would  soon 
wear  out  a  settlement  worker. 

The  half-breed  smoked  uneasily,  his  rifle 
across  his  knees.  Two  hours  passed,  but  he 
did  not  stir,  so  confident  was  he  that  Helen 
would  return  by  the  way  she  had  followed 
in  departing  from  the  ranch. 

McFann's  patience  was  rewarded,  and  he 
tossed  away  his  cigarette  with  a  sigh  of  sat- 
isfaction when  Helen's  voice  came  to  him 
from  the  top  of  the  hill.  She  was  singing  a 
nonsense  song  from  the  nursery,  and,  astride 
behind  her  saddle  and  clinging  to  her  waist, 
was  a  wide-eyed  Indian  girl  of  six  years, 
enjoying  both  the  ride  and  the  singing. 

Here  was  a  complication  upon  which  the 
half-breed  had  not  counted.  In  fact,  during 
his  hours  of  waiting  Jim  had  begun  to  look 
at  matters  in  a  different  light.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  get  Helen  away,  where  she  could  not 
possibly  tell  what  she  knew,  but  why  not 
hide  her  in  the  mountains?  Or,  if  stronger 
methods  were  necessary,  let  Talpers  attend 


1 86  MYSTERY  RANCH 

to  them  himself?  For  the  first  time  since  he 
had  come  under  Talpers's  ^domination,  Jim 
McFann  was  beginning  to  weaken.  As  the 
girl  came  singing  down  the  hillside,  Jim 
peered  uneasily  through  the  bushes.  Tal- 
pers  had  shoved  him  into  a  job  that  sim- 
ply could  not  be  carried  out  —  at  least  not 
without  whiskey.  If  Bill  had  let  him  bring 
all  he  wanted  to  drink,  perhaps  things  could 
have  been  done  as  planned. 

Whatever  was  done  would  have  to  be  ac- 
complished quickly,  as  the  white  horse,  with 
its  double  burden,  was  getting  close.  Jim 
sighted  once  or  twice  along  his  rifle  bar- 
rel. Then  he  dropped  the  weapon  into  the 
hollow  of  his  arm,  and,  leading  his  horse, 
stepped  in  front  of  Helen. 

The  parley  was  brief.  McFann  sent  the 
youngster  scurrying  along  the  back  trail, 
after  a  few  threats  in  Indian  tongue,  which 
were  dire  enough  to  seal  the  child's  lips  in 
fright.  Helen  was  startled  at  first  when  the 
half-breed  halted  her,  but  her  composure 
soon  returned.  She  had  no  weapon,  nor 
would  she  have  attempted  to  use  one  in  any 


MYSTERY  RANCH  187 

event,  as  she  knew  the  half-breed  was  fa- 
mous for  his  quickness  and  cleverness  with 
firearms.  Nor  could  anything  be  gained  by 
attempting  to  ride  him  down  in  the  trail. 
She  did  not  ask  any  questions,  for  she  felt 
they  would  be  futile. 

The  half-breed  was  surprised  at  the  calm- 
ness with  which  matters  were  being  taken. 
With  singular  ease  and  grace  —  another  gift 
from  his  Indian  forbears  —  Jim  slid  into  his 
saddle,  and,  seizing  the  white  horse  by  the 
bridle,  turned  the  animal  around  and  started 
it  up  the  trail  beside  him.  In  a  few  minutes 
Jim  had  found  his  trail  of  the  evening  before, 
and  was  working  swiftly  back  toward  the 
mountains.  When  Helen  slyly  dropped  her 
handkerchief,  as  an  aid  to  any  one  who 
might  follow,  the  half-breed  quietly  turned 
back  and,  after  picking  it  up,  informed  her 
that  he  would  kill  her  if  she  tried  any  more 
such  tricks.  Realizing  the  folly  of  any 
further  attempts  to  outwit  the  half-breed, 
Helen  rode  silently  on.  Not  once  did  Mc- 
Fann  strike  across  a  ridge.  Imprisoning 
slopes  seemed  to  be  shutting  them  in  with- 


1 88  MYSTERY  RANCH 

out  surcease,  and  Helen  looked  in  vain  for 
any  aid. 

As  they  approached  the  foothills,  and  the 
travel  increased  in  difficulty,  McFann  told 
Helen  to  ride  close  behind  him.  He  glanced 
around  occasionally  to  see  that  she  was 
obeying  orders.  The  old  white  horse  strug- 
gled gamely  after  the  half-breed's  wiry  ani- 
mal, and  McFann  was  compelled  to  wait 
only  once  or  twice.  Meanwhile  Helen  had 
thought  over  the  situation  from  every  pos- 
sible angle,  and  had  concluded  to  go  ahead 
and  not  make  any  effort  to  thwart  the  half- 
breed.  She  knew  that  the  reservation  was 
more  free  from  crime  than  the  counties  sur- 
rounding it.  She  also  knew  that  it  would 
not  be  long  before  the  agent  was  informed 
of  her  disappearance,  and  that  the  Indian 
police  —  trailers  who  were  the  half-breed's 
equal  in  threading  the  ways  of  the  wilder- 
ness —  would  soon  be  on  McFann's  tracks. 
After  her  first  shock  of  surprise  she  had 
little  fear  of  McFann.  The  thought  that 
disturbed  her  most  of  all  was  —  Talpers. 
She  knew  of  the  strange  partnership  of  the 


MYSTERY  RANCH  189 

men.  Likewise  she  felt  that  McFann  would 
not  have  embarked  upon  any  such  crime 
alone.  The  thought  of  Talpers  recurred  so 
steadily  that  the  lithe  figure  of  the  half- 
breed  in  front  of  her  seemed  to  change  into 
the  broad,  almost  misshapen  form  of  the 
trader. 

The  first  real  fear  that  had  come  to  her 
since  the  strange  journey  began  surged  over 
Helen  when  McFann  led  the  way  into  the 
glade  where  he  had  been  camped,  and  she 
saw  a  dreaded  and  familiar  figure  stooped 
over  a  small  fire,  engaged  in  frying  bacon. 
But  there  was  nothing  of  triumph  in  Tal- 
pers's  face  as  he  straightened  up  and  saw 
Helen.  Amazement  flitted  across  the  tra- 
der's features,  succeeded  by  consternation. 

"Now  you've  done  it  and  done  it  right!" 
exclaimed  the  trader,  with  a  shower  of  oaths 
directed  at  Jim  McFann.  "  Did  n't  have  the 
nerve  to  shoot  at  a  purty  face  like  that,  did 
you?  Git  her  into  that  tent  while  you  and 
me  set  down  and  figger  out  what  we're 
goin'  to  do!" 

The  half-breed  helped  Helen  dismount 


i9o  MYSTERY  RANCH 

and  told  her  to  go  to  his  tent,  a  small,  pyra- 
mid affair  at  one  end  of  the  glade.  Jim  fast- 
ened the  flaps  on  the  outside  and  went  back 
to  the  camp-fire,  where  Talpers  was  storm- 
ing up  and  down  like  a  madman.  Helen, 
seated  on  McFann's  blanket  roll,  heard  their 
voices  rising  and  falling,  the  half-breed  ap- 
parently defending  himself  and  Talpers 
growing  louder  and  more  accusative.  Fi- 
nally, when  the  trader's  rage  seemed  to  have 
spent  itself  somewhat,  the  tent  flaps  were 
opened  and  Jim  McFann  thrust  some  food 
into  Helen's  hands.  She  ate  the  bacon  and 
biscuits,  as  the  long  ride  had  made  her 
hungry.  Then  Talpers  roughly  ordered  her 
out  of  the  tent.  He  and  the  half-breed  had 
been  busy  packing  and  saddling.  They 
added  the  tent  and  its  contents  to  their 
packs.  Telling  Helen  to  mount  the  white 
horse  once  more,  Talpers  took  the  lead, 
and,  with  the  silent  and  sullen  half-breed 
bringing  up  the  rear,  the  party  started  off 
along  a  trail  much  rougher  than  the  one 
that  had  been  followed  by  McFann  and  the 
girl  in  the  morning. 


CHAPTER  XI 

It  was  fortunate  that  Helen  had  ac- 
customed herself  to  long  rides,  as  otherwise 
she  could  not  have  undergone  the  experiences 
of  the  next  few  hours  in  the  saddle.  All 
semblance  of  a  trail  seemed  to  end  a  mile  or 
so  beyond  the  camp.  The  ride  became  a 
succession  of  scrambles  across  treacherous 
slides  of  shale,  succeeded  by  plunges  into 
apparently  impenetrable  walls  of  under- 
brush and  low-hanging  trees.  The  general 
course  of  the  river  was  followed.  At  times 
they  had  climbed  to  such  a  height  that  the 
stream  was  merely  a  white  line  beneath 
them,  and  its  voice  could  not  be  heard. 
Then  they  would  descend  and  cross  and  re- 
cross  the  stream.  The  wild  plunges  across 
the  torrent  became  matters  of  torture  to 
Helen.  The  horses  slipped  on  the  boulders. 
Water  dashed  over  the  girl's  knees,  and  each 
ford  became  more  difficult,  as  the  stream  be- 
came more  swollen,  owing  to  the  melting  of 


192  I     i  MYSTERY  RANCH 

near-by  snowbanks.  One  of  the  pack-horses 
fell  and  lay  helplessly  in  the  stream  until 
it  was  fairly  dragged  to  its  feet.  The  men 
cursed  volubly  as  they  worked  over  the  ani- 
mal and  readjusted  the  wet  pack,  which  had 
slipped  to  one  side. 

After  an  hour  or  two  of  travel  the  half- 
breed  took  Talpers's  place  in  the  lead,  the 
trader  bringing  up  the  rear  behind  Helen 
and  the  pack-horses.  Two  bald  mountain- 
peaks  began  to  loom  startlingly  near.  The 
stream  ran  between  the  peaks,  being  fed  by 
the  snows  on  either  slope.  As  the  altitude 
became  more  pronounced  the  horses  strug- 
gled harder  at  their  work.  The  white  horse 
was  showing  the  stamina  that  was  in  him. 
Helen  urged  him  to  his  task,  knowing  the 
folly  of  attempting  to  thwart  the  wishes  of 
her  captors.  They  passed  a  slope  where  a 
forest  fire  had  swept  in  years  gone  by.  Wild 
raspberry  bushes  had  grown  in  profusion 
among  the  black,  sentinel-like  trunks  of 
dead  trees.  The  bushes  tore  her  riding-suit 
and  scratched  her  hands,  but  she  uttered  no 
complaint. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  193 

Under  any  other  circumstances  Helen 
would  have  found  much  in  the  ride  to  over- 
come its  discomforts.  The  majesty  of  the 
scenery  impressed  itself  upon  her  mind, 
troubled  as  she  was.  Silence  wrapped  the 
two  great  peaks  like  a  mantle.  An  eagle 
swung  lazily  in  midair  between  the  granite 
spires.  Here  was  another  plane  of  existence 
where  the  machinations  of  men  seemed  to 
matter  little.  Almost  indifferent  to  her  dis- 
comforts Helen  struggled  on,  mechanically 
keeping  her  place  in  line.  The  half-breed 
looked  back  occasionally,  and  even  went 
so  far  as  to  take  her  horse  by  the  bridle 
and  help  the  animal  up  an  unusually  hard 
slope. 

When  it  became  apparent  that  further 
progress  was  an  impossibility  unless  the 
pack-horses  were  abandoned,  the  half-breed 
turned  aside,  and,  after  a  final  desperate 
scramble  up  the  mountain-side,  the  party 
entered  a  fairly  open,  level  glade.  Helen 
dismounted  with  the  others. 

"We're  goin'  to  camp  here  for  a  while/3 
announced  Talpers,  after  a  short  whispered 


194  MYSTERY  RANCH 

conference  with  the  half -breed.  "  You  might 
as  well  make  yourself  as  comfortable  as  you 
can,  but  remember  one  thing  —  you  '11  be 
shot  if  you  try  to  get  away  or  if  you  make 
any  signals." 

Helen  leaned  back  against  a  tree-trunk, 
too  weary  to  make  answer,  and  Talpers  went 
to  the  assistance  of  McFann,  who  was  tak- 
ing off  the  packs  and  saddles.  The  horses 
were  staked  out  near  at  hand,  where  they 
could  get  their  fill  of  the  luxuriant  grass  that 
carpeted  the  mountain-side  here.  McFann 
brought  water  from  a  spring  near  at  hand, 
and  the  trader  set  out  some  food  from  one 
of  the  packs,  though  it  was  decided  not  to 
build  a  fire  to  cook  anything.  Helen  ate 
biscuits  and  bacon  left  from  the  previous 
meal.  While  she  was  eating,  McFann  put 
up  the  little  tent.  Then,  after  another  con- 
ference with  Talpers,  the  half-breed  climbed 
a  rock  which  jutted  out  of  the  shoulder  of 
the  mountain  not  far  from  them.  His  lithe 
figure  was  silhouetted  against  the  reddening 
sky.  Helen  wondered,  as  she  looked  up  at 
him,  if  the  rock  had  been  used  for  sentinel 


MYSTERY  RANCH  195 

purposes  in  years  gone  by.   Her  reflections 
were  broken  in  upon  by  Talpers. 

"That  tent  is  yours,"  said  the  trader,  in 
a  low  voice.  "But  before  you  turn  in  I've 
got  a  few  words  to  say  to  you.  You  have 
n't  seemed  to  be  as  much  afraid  of  me  on 
this  trip  as  you  was  the  other  night  at  your 
cabin." 

"There's  no  reason  why  I  should  be," 
said  Helen  quietly.  "You  don't  dare  harm 
me  for  several  reasons." 

What  are  they?"  sneered  Talpers. 
Well,  one  reason  is  —  Jim  McFann.  All 
I  have  to  do  to  cause  your  partnership  to 
dissolve  at  once  is  to  tell  Jim  that  you  found 
that  money  on  the  man  who  was  murdered 
and  did  n't  divide." 

Talpers  winced. 

"Furthermore,  this  business  has  practi- 
cally made  an  outlaw  of  you.  It  all  depends 
on  your  treatment  of  me.  I  'm  the  collateral 
that  may  get  you  back  into  the  good  graces 
of  society." 

Talpers  wiped  the  sweat  beads  off  his 
forehead. 


196  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"You  don't  want  to  be  too  sure  of  your- 
self," he  growled,  though  with  so  much  lack 
of  assurance  that  Helen  was  secretly  de- 
lighted. "You  want  to  remember,'3  went 
on  the  trader  threateningly,  "that  any  time 
we  want  to  put  a  bullet  in  you,  we  can 
make  our  getaway  easy  enough.  The  only 
thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  keep  quiet  and  see 
that  you  mind  orders." 

Talpers  ended  the  interview  hastily  when 
McFann  came  down  from  the  rock.  The 
men  talked  together,  after  shutting  Helen 
in  the  tent  and  reiterating  that  she  would  be 
watched  and  that  the  first  attempt  to  escape 
would  be  fatal.  Helen  flung  herself  down  on 
the  blankets  and  watched  the  fading  lights 
of  evening  as  they  were  reflected  on  the  can- 
vas. She  could  hear  the  low  voices  of  Tal- 
pers and  McFann,  hardly  distinguishable 
from  the  slight  noises  made  by  the  wind  in 
the  trees.  The  moon  cast  the  shadows  of 
branches  on  the  canvas,  and  the  noise  of  the 
stream,  far  below,  came  fitfully  to  Helen's 
ears.  She  was  more  at  ease  in  mind  than  at 
any  other  time  since  Jim  McFann  had  con- 


MYSTERY  RANCH  197 

fronted  her  with  his  rifle  over  his  arm.  She 
felt  that  Talpers  was  the  moving  spirit  in 
her  kidnaping.  She  did  not  know  how  near 
her  knowledge  of  the  trader's  implication  in 
the  Dollar  Sign  tragedy  had  brought  her  to 
death.  Nor  did  she  know  that  Talpers's 
rage  over  Jim  McFann's  weakening  had 
been  so  great  that  the  trader  had  nearly 
snatched  up  his  rifle  and  shot  his  partner 
dead  when  the  half-breed  brought  Helen 
into  camp. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  when  Talpers  had 
realized  that  Jim  McFann  had  failed  in  his 
mission  of  assassination,  the  trader  had  been 
consumed  with  alternate  rage  and  fear.  A 
kidnaping  had  been  the  last  thing  in  the 
world  in  the  trader's  thoughts.  Assassina- 
tion, with  some  one  else  doing  the  work, 
was  much  the  better  way.  Running  off  with 
womenfolk  could  not  be  made  a  profitable 
affair,  but  here  was  the  girl  thrown  into  his 
hands  by  fate.  It  would  not  do  to  let  her  go. 
Perhaps  a  way  out  of  the  mess  could  be 
thought  over.  McFann  could  be  made  to 
bear  the  brunt   in    some  way.   Meantime 


198  MYSTERY  RANCH 

the  best  thing  to  do  was  to  get  as  far  into  the 
hills  as  possible.  McFann  could  outwit  the 
Indian  police.  He  had  been  doing  it  right 
along.  He  had  fooled  them  during  long 
months  of  bootlegging.  Since  his  escape 
from  jail  the  police  had  redoubled  their  ef- 
forts to  capture  McFann,  but  he  had  gone 
right  on  fooling  them.  If  worst  came  to 
worst,  McFann  and  he  could  make  their 
getaway  alone,  first  putting  the  girl  where 
she  would  never  tell  what  she  knew  about 
them.  Across  the  mountains  there  was  a 
little  colony  of  law-breakers  that  had  long 
been  after  Talpers  as  a  leader.  He  had 
helped  them  in  a  good  many  ways,  these 
outlaws,  particularly  in  rustling  cattle  from 
the  reservation  herds.  It  was  Bill  Talpers 
who  had  evolved  the  neat  little  plan  of 
changing  the  ID  brand  of  the  Interior  De- 
partment to  the  "two-pole  pumpkin"  brand, 
which  was  done  merely  by  extending  another 
semicircle  to  the  left  of  the  "I"  and  connect- 
ing that  letter  and  the  "D"  at  top  and  bot- 
tom, thus  making  two  perpendicular  lines 
in  a  flattened  circle. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  199 

The  returns  from  his  interest  in  the  gang 's 
rustling  operations  had  been  far  more  than 
Bill  had  ever  secured  from  his  store.  In 
fact,  storekeeping  was  played  out.  Bill 
never  would  have  kept  it  up  except  for  the 
opportunity  it  gave  him  to  find  out  what 
was  going  on.  To  be  sure,  he  should  have 
played  safe  and  kept  away  from  such  things 
as  that  affair  on  the  Dollar  Sign  road.  But 
he  could  have  come  clear  even  there  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  uncanny  knowledge  pos- 
sessed by  that  girl.  The  thought  of  what 
»  would  happen  if  she  took  a  notion  to  tell 
McFann  how  he  had  been  "double-crossed" 
by  his  partner  gave  Talpers  something  ap- 
proaching a  chill.  The  half-breed  was  docile 
enough  as  long  as  he  thought  he  was  being 
fairly  dealt  with.  But  once  let  him  find  out 
that  he  had  been  unfairly  treated,  all  the 
Indian  in  him  would  come  to  the  surface 
with  a  rush!  Fortunately  the  girl  was  prov- 
ing herself  to  be  close-mouthed.  She  had 
traveled  for  hours  with  the  half-breed  with- 
out telling  him  of  Talpers's  perfidy.  Now 
Bill  would  see  to  it  that  she  got  no  chance 


aoo  MYSTERY  RANCH 

to  talk  with  McFann.  The  half-breed  was 
too  tender-hearted  where  women  were  con- 
cerned. That  much  had  been  proved  when 
he  had  fallen  down  in  the  matter  of  the  work 
he  had  been  sent  out  to  do.  If  she  had  a 
chance  the  girl  might  even  persuade  him  to 
let  her  escape,  which  was  not  going  to  do  at 
all.  If  anybody  was  to  be  left  holding  the 
sack  at  the  end  of  the  adventure,  it  would 
not  be  Bill  Talpers ! 

With  various  stratagems  being  brought 
to  mind,  only  to  be  rejected  one  after  an- 
other, Talpers  watched  the  tent  until  mid- 
night, the  half-breed  sleeping  near  at  hand. 
Then  Bill  turned  in  while  McFann  kept 
watch.  As  for  Helen,  she  slept  the  sleep  of 
exhaustion  until  wakened  by  the  touch  of 
daylight  on  the  canvas. 

With  senses  preternaturally  sharpened,  as 
they  generally  are  during  one's  first  hours  in 
the  wilderness,  Helen  listened.  She  heard 
Talpers  stirring  about  among  the  horses.  It 
was  evident  that  he  was  alarmed  about 
something,  as  he  was  pulling  the  picket-pins 
and  bringing  the  animals  closer  to  the  center 


MYSTERY  RANCH  201 

of  the  glade.  McFann  had  been  looking 
down  the  valley  from  the  sentinel  rock.  She 
did  not  hear  him  come  into  camp,  as  kthe 
half-breed  always  moved  silently  through 
underbrush  that  would  betray  the  presence 
of  any  one  less  skilled  in  woodcraft.  She 
heard  his  monosyllabic  answers  to  Talpers's 
questions.  Then  Bill  himself  pushed  his  way 
through  the  underbrush  and  climbed  the 
rock.  When  he  returned  to  the  camp  he 
came  to  the  tent. 

"I  don't  mind  tellin'  you  that  Plenty 
Buffalo  is  out  there  on  the  trail,  with  an 
Injun  policeman  or  two.  That  young  agent 
don't  seem  to  have  had  nerve  enough  to 
come  along,"  said  Talpers,  producing  a  small 
rope.  "I'll  have  to  tie  your  hands  awhile, 
just  to  make  sure  you  don't  try  gittin' 
away.  I  'm  goin'  to  tell  'em  that  at  the  first 
sign  of  rushin'  the  camp  you're  goin'  to  be 
shot.  What's  more  I'm  goin'  to  mean  what 
I  tell  'em." 

Talpers  tied  Helen's  hands  behind  her. 
He  left  the  flaps  of  the  tent  open  as  he 
picked  up  his  rifle  and  returned  to  McFann, 


202  MYSTERY  RANCH 

who  was  sitting  on  a  log,  composedly 
enough,  keeping  watch  of  the  other  end  of 
the  glade  where  the  trail  entered.  Helen 
sank  to  her  knees,  with  her  back  to  the  rear 
of  the  tent,  so  she  could  command  a  better 
view.  The  tent  had  been  staked  down  se- 
curely around  the  edges,  so  there  was  no 
opportunity  for  her  to  crawl  under. 

Apparently  the  two  men  in  the  glade,  as 
Helen  saw  them  through  the  inverted  V  of 
the  open  tent  flaps,  were  most  peacefully 
inclined.  They  sat  smoking  and  talking, 
and,  from  all  outward  appearances,  might 
have  been  two  hunters  talking  over  the 
day's  prospects.  Suddenly  they  sprang  to 
their  feet,  and,  with  rifles  in  readiness, 
looked  toward  the  trail,  which  was  hidden 
from  Helen's  vision. 

"Don't  come  any  nearer,  Plenty  Buffalo," 
called  Talpers,  in  Indian  language.  "If  you 
try  to  rush  the  camp,  the  first  thing  we  '11  do 
is  to  kill  this  girl.  The  only  thing  for  you  to 
do  is  to  go  back." 

Then  followed  a  short  colloquy,  Helen  be- 
ing unable  to  hear  Plenty  Buffalo's  voice. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  203 

Evidently  he  was  well  down  the  trail, 
hidden  in  the  trees,  and  was  making  no 
further  effort  to  approach.  The  men  sat 
down  again,  watching  the  trail  and  evi- 
dently figuring  out  their  plan  of  escape. 
There  was  no  means  of  scaling  the  mountain 
wall  behind  them.  Horses  could  not  pos- 
sibly climb  that  steep  slope,  covered  with 
such  a  tangle  of  trees  and  undergrowth,  but 
it  was  possible  to  proceed  farther  along  the 
upper  edge  of  the  valley  until  finally  timber- 
line  was  reached,  after  which  the  party  could 
drop  over  the  divide  into  the  happy  little 
kingdom  just  off  the  reservation  where  a 
capable  man  with  the  branding-iron  was 
always  welcome  and  where  the  authorities 
never  interfered. 

Helen  listened  for  another  call  from 
Plenty  Buffalo,  but  the  minutes  dragged 
past  and  no  summons  came.  The  silence  of 
the  forest  became  almost  unbearable.  The 
men  sat  uneasily,  casting  occasional  'glances 
back  at  the  tent,  and  making  sure  that 
Helen  was  remaining  quiet.  Finally  Plenty 
Buffalo  called  again.    There  was  another 


2o4  MYSTERY  RANCH 

brief  parley  and  Talpers  renewed  his  threats. 
While  the  talk  was  going  on,  Helen  heard  a 
slight  noise  behind  her,  Turning  her  head, 
she  saw  the  point  of  a  knife  cutting  a  long 
slit  in  the  back  of  the  tent.  Then  Fire  Bear's 
dark  face  peered  in  through  the  opening. 
The  Indian's  long  brown  arm  reached  forth 
and  the  bonds  at  Helen's  wrists  were  cut. 
The  arm  disappeared  through  the  slit  in  the 
canvas,  beckoning  as  it  did  so.  Helen  backed 
slowly  toward  the  opening  that  had  been 
made. 

The  talk  between  Plenty  Buffalo  and 
Talpers  was  still  going  on.  Helen  waited 
until  both  men  had  glanced  around  at  her. 
Then,  as  they  turned  their  heads  once  more 
toward  Plenty  Buffalo's  hiding-place,  she 
half  leaped,  half  fell  through  the  opening  in 
the  tent.  A  strong  hand  kept  her  from  fall- 
ing and  guided  her  swiftly  through  the 
underbrush  back  of  the  tent.  Her  face  was 
scratched  by  the  bushes  that  swung  back 
as  the  half -naked  Indian  glided  ahead  of  her, 
but,  in  almost  miraculous  fashion,  she  found 
a  traversable  path  opened.  Torn  and  bleed- 


MYSTERY  RANCH  205 

ing,  she  flung  herself  behind  a  rock,  just  as  a 
shout  from  the  camp  told  that  her  disap- 
pearance had  been  discovered.  There  was 
a  crashing  of  pursuers  through  the  under- 
brush, but  a  gun  roared  a  warning,  almost  in 
Helen's  ear. 

The  shot  was  fired  by  Lowell,  who,  hatless 
and  with  torn  clothing,  had  followed  Fire 
Bear  within  a  short  distance  of  the  camp. 
Helen  crouched  against  the  rock,  while 
Lowell  stood  over  her  firing  into  the  forest 
tangle.  Fire  Bear  stood  nonchalantly  be- 
side Lowell.  Helen  noticed,  wonderingly, 
that  there  was  not  a  scratch  on  the  Indian's 
naked  shoulders,  yet  Lowell's  clothes  were 
torn,  and  blood  dripped  from  his  palms 
where  he  had  followed  Fire  Bear  along  the 
seemingly  impassable  way  back  of  the  camp. 

One  or  two  answering  shots  were  fired, 
but  evidently  Talpers  and  his  companion 
were  afraid  of  an  attack  by  Plenty  Buffalo, 
so  no  pursuit  was  attempted. 

The  Indian  turned,  and,  motioning  for 
Lowell  and  Helen  to  follow,  disappeared  in 
the  undergrowth  along  the  trail  which  he 


206  MYSTERY  RANCH 

and  the  agent  had  made  while  Plenty  Buf- 
falo was  attracting  the  attention  of  Talpers 
and  the  half-breed.  Helen  tried  to  rise,  but 
the  sudden  ending  of  the  mental  strain 
proved  unnerving.  She  leaned  against  the 
rock  with  her  eyes  closed  and  her  body  limp. 
Lowell  lifted  her  to  her  feet,  almost  roughly. 
For  a  moment  she  stood  with  Lowell's  arms 
about  her  and  his  kisses  on  her  face.  Her 
whiteness  alarmed  him. 

"Tell  me  you  have  n't  been  harmed,"  he 
cried.    "If  you  have — " 

"Just  these  scratches  and  a  good  riding- 
suit  in  tatters,"  she  answered,  as  she  drew 
away  from  him  with  a  reassuring  smile. 

Lowell's  brow  cleared,  and  he  laughed 
gleefully,  as  he  picked  up  his  rifle. 

"Well,  there's  just  one  more  hard  scram- 
ble ahead,"  he  replied,  "and  perhaps  some 
more  tatters  to  add  to  what  both  of  us  have. 
I'd  carry  you,  but  the  best  I  can  do  is  to 
help  you  over  some  of  the  more  difficult 
places.  Fire  Bear  has  started.  Have  you 
strength  enough  to  try  to  follow?' 

He  led  her  along  the  trail  taken  by  Fire 


MYSTERY  RANCH  207 

Bear  —  a  trail  in  name  only.  The  Indian 
had  waited  for  them  a  few  yards  away. 
How  much  he  had  seen  and  heard  when 
Lowell  held  her  in  his  arms  Helen  could  only 
surmise,  but  the  thought  sent  the  blood  into 
her  cheeks  with  a  rush. 

It  was  as  Lowell  had  said  —  another 
scramble.  At  times  it  seemed  as  if  she  could 
not  go  on,  but  always  at  the  right  time 
Lowell  gave  the  necessary  help  that  en- 
abled her  to  surmount  some  seemingly  im- 
passable obstacle.  As  for  Fire  Bear,  he  made 
his  way  over  huge  rocks  and  along  steep 
pitches  of  shale  with  the  ease  of  a  serpent. 
At  last  the  way  became  somewhat  less  diffi- 
cult to  traverse,  and,  when  they  came  out 
on  the  trail  by  the  stream,  Helen  realized 
that  the  tax  on  her  physical  resources  was 
ended. 

A  short  distance  down  the  trail  they  met 
Plenty  Buffalo  with  two  Indian  policemen. 
One  of  the  police  had  been  wounded  in  the 
arm  by  a  shot  from  Talpers.  The  trader 
and  McFann  had  hurriedly  packed  and 
made  their  escape,  leaving  the  white  horse, 


ao8  MYSTERY  RANCH 

which  Plenty  Buffalo  had  brought  for 
Helen. 

After  a  hasty  examination  of  the  Indian's 
arm  it  was  decided  to  hurry  back  to  the 
agency  for  aid. 

"I've  sent  out  a  call  for  more  of  the 
Indian  police,"  said  Lowell.  "They  '11  prob- 
ably be  there  when  we  get  back  to  the 
agency.  We  just  picked  up  what  help  we 
could  find  when  we  got  word]  of  your  disap- 
pearance." 

When  Helen  looked  around  for  Fire  Bear, 
the  Indian  had  disappeared. 

"  We  never  could  have  done  anything 
without  Fire  Bear,"  said  Lowell,  as  he 
swung  into  the  saddle  preparatory  to  the 
homeward  ride.  "He  is  the  greatest  trailer 
I  ever  saw.  Probably  he 's  gone  back  to  his 
camp,  now  that  this  interruption  in  his  reli- 
gious ceremonies  is  over." 

Plenty  Buffalo  led  the  way  back  to  the 
agency  with  the  wounded  policeman.  Lowell 
had  examined  the  man's  injury  and  was 
satisfied  that  it  was  only  superficial.  The 
policeman  himself  took  matters  with  true 


MYSTERY  RANCH  209 

Indian  philosophy,  and  galloped  on  with 
Plenty  Buffalo,  the  most  unconcerned  mem- 
ber of  the  party. 

Lowell  rode  with  Helen,  letting  the  others 
go  on  ahead  after  they  had  reached  the  open 
country  beyond  the  foothills.  He  explained 
the  circumstances  of  the  rescue  —  how 
Wong  had  brought  a  note  signed  "Willis 
Morgan,"  telling  of  Helen's  disappearance. 
At  the  same  time  Fire  Bear  had  come  to  the 
agency  with  the  news  that  one  of  his  young 
men  had  seen  McFann  and  Helen  riding 
toward  the  mountains.  Fire  Bear  was  con- 
vinced that  something  was  wrong  and  had 
lost  no  time  in  telling  Lowell.  With  Plenty 
Buffalo  and  one  or  two  Indian  policemen 
who  happened  to  be  at  the  agency,  a  posse 
was  hurriedly  made  up.  Fire  Bear  took  the 
trail  and  followed  it  so  swiftly  and  unerr- 
ingly that  the  party  was  almost  within 
striking  distance  of  the  fugitives  by  night- 
fall. A  conference  had  been  held,  and  it  was 
decided  to  let  Plenty  Buffalo  parley  with 
Talpers  and  McFann  from  the  trail,  while 
Fire  Bear  attempted  the  seemingly  impos- 


aio  MYSTERY  RANCH 

sible  task  of  entering  the  camp  from  the  side 
toward  the  mountain. 

Helen  was  silent  during  most  of  the  ride 
to  the  agency.  Lowell  ascribed  her  silence 
to  a  natural  reaction  from  the  physical  and 
mental  strain  of  recent  hours.  After  reach- 
ing the  agency  he  saw  that  the  wounded 
policeman  was  properly  taken  care  of.  Then 
Lowell  and  Helen  started  for  the  Greek 
Letter  Ranch  in  the  agent's  car,  leaving  her 
horse  to  be  brought  over  by  one  of  the 
agency  employees. 

"Do  you  intend  to  go  back  and  take  up 
the  chase  for  Talpers  and  McFann?"  asked 
Helen. 

"Of  course!  Just  as  soon  as  I  can  get 
more  of  the  Indian  police  together." 

"But  they'll  hardly  be  taken  alive,  will 
they?" 

"Perhaps  not." 

"That  means  that  blood  will  be  shed  on 
my  account,"  declared  Helen.  "I'll  not 
have  it!  I  don't  want  those  men  captured! 
What  if  I  refuse  to  testify  against  them?' 

Lowell  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  Then 


MYSTERY  RANCH  211 

it  came  to  him  overwhelmingly  that  here 
was  the  murder  mystery  stalking  between 
them  once  more,  like  a  ghost.  He  recalled 
Talpers's  broad  hint  that  Helen  knew  some- 
thing of  the  case,  and  that  if  Bill  Talpers 
were  dragged  into  the  Dollar  Sign  affair  the 
girl  at  the  Greek  Letter  Ranch  would  be 
dragged  in  also. 

"There  is  no  need  of  the  outside  world 
knowing  anything  about  this,"  went  on 
Helen.  "The  Indian  police  do  not  report  to 
any  one  but  you,  do  they?" 

"No.  Their  lips  are  sealed  so  far  as  their 
official  duties  are  concerned." 

"Fire  Bear  will  have  nothing  to  say?' 
.     "  He  has  probably  forgotten  it  by  this  time 
in  his  religious  fervor." 

"Then  I  ask  you  to  let  th^se  men  go." 

"If  you  will  not  appear  against  them," 
said  Lowell,  "I  can't  see  that  anything  will 
be  gained  by  bringing  them  in.  But  prob- 
ably it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  exterminate 
them  on  the  tenable  ground  that  they  are 
general  menaces  to  the  welfare  of  society." 

The  girl's  troubled  expression  returned. 


aia  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"On  one  condition  I  will  send  word  to 
Talpers  that  he  may  return,"  went  on 
Lowell.  "That  condition  is  that  you  re- 
scind your  order  excluding  me  from  the 
Greek  Letter  Ranch.  If  Talpers  comes  back 
I  've  got  to  be  allowed  to  drop  around  to  see 
that  you  are  not  spirited  away." 


CHAPTER  XII 

Talpers  was  back  in  his  store  in  two  days. 
Lowell  [sent  word  that  the  trader  might 
return.  At  first  Talpers  was  hesitant  'and 
suspicious.  There  was  a  lurking  fear  in  his 
mind  that  the  agent  had  some  trick  in  view, 
but,  as  life  took  its  accustomed  course,  Bill 
resumed  his  domineering  attitude  about  the 
store.  A  casual  explanation  that  he  had 
been  buying  some  cattle  was  enough  to 
explain  his  absence. 

Bill's  recent  experiences  had  caused  him 
to  regard  the  agent  with  new  hatred,  not 
unmixed  with  fear.  The  obvious  thing  for 
Lowell  to  have  done  was  to  have  rushed 
more  men  on  the  trail  and  captured  Talpers 
and  McFann  before  they  crossed  the  res- 
ervation line.  It  could  have  been  done, 
with  Fire  Bear  doing  the  trailing.  Even  the 
half-breed  admitted  that  much.  But,  in- 
stead of  carrying  out  such  a  programme,  the 
agent  had  sent  Fire  Bear  and  Plenty  Buffalo 


214  MYSTERY  RANCH 

with  word  that  the  trader  might  come  back 
—  that  no  prosecution  was  intended. 

Clearly  enough  such  an  unusual  proceed- 
ing indicated  that  the  girl  was  still  afraid  on 
account  of  the  letter,  and  had  persuaded  the 
agent  to  abandon  the  chase.  There  was 
the  key  to  the  whole  situation  —  the  letter! 
Bill  determined  to  guard  it  more  closely 
than  ever.  He  opened  his  safe  frequently 
to  see  that  it  was  there. 

As  a  whole,  then,  things  were  not  break- 
ing so  badly,  Bill  figured.  To  be  sure,  it 
would  have  cleared  things  permanently  if 
Jim  McFann  had  done  as  he  had  been  told, 
instead  of  weakening  in  such  unexpected 
and  absurd  fashion.  Bringing  that  girl  into 
camp,  as  Jim  had  done,  had  given  Talpers 
the  most  unpleasant  surprise  of  his  life.  He 
had  come  out  of  the  affair  luckily.  The  let- 
ter was  what  had  done  it  all.  He  would  lie 
low  and  keep  an  eye  on  affairs  from  now  on. 
McFann  would  have  no  difficulty  in  shifting 
for  himself  out  in  the  sagebrush,  now  that 
he  was  alone.  Bill  would  see  that  he  got 
grub  and  even  a  little  whiskey  occasionally, 


MYSTERY  RANCH  215 

but  there  would  be  no  more  assignments  for 
him  in  which  women  were  concerned,  for  the 
half-breed  had  too  tender  a  heart  for  his  own 
good! 

The  Indian  agent  stopped  at  Bill's  store 
occasionally,  on  his  way  to  and  from  the 
Greek  Letter  Ranch.  Their  conversation 
ran  mostly  to  trade  and  minor  affairs  of  life 
in  general.  Even  the  weather  was  fallen 
back  upon  in  case  some  one  happened  to  be 
within  earshot,  which  was  usually  the  case, 
as  Bill's  store  was  seldom  empty.  No  one 
who  heard  them  would  suspect  that  the 
men  were  watching,  weighing,  and  fathom- 
ing each  other  with  all  the  nicety  at  indi- 
vidual command.  Talpers  was  always  won- 
dering just  how  much  the  Indian  agent 
knew,  and  Lowell  was  saying  to  himself: 

"This  scoundrel  has  some  knowledge  in 
his  possession  which  vitally  affects  the 
young  woman  I  love.  Also  he  is  concerned, 
perhaps  deeply,  in  the  murder  on  the  Dol- 
lar Sign  road.  Yet  he  has  fortified  him- 
self so  well  in  his  villainy  that  he  feels 


secure." 


216  MYSTERY  RANCH 

For  all  his  increased  feeling  of  security, 
Talpers  was  wise  enough  to  let  the  bottle 
alone  and  also  to  do  no  boasting.  Likewise 
he  stuck  faithfully  to  his  store  —  so  faith- 
fully that  it  became  a  matter  of  public  com- 
ment. 

"If  Bill  sticks  much  closer  to  this  store 
he's  goin'  to  fall  into  a  decline/'  said  Andy 
Wolters,  who  had  been  restored  to  favor  in 
the  circle  of  cowpunchers  that  lolled  about 
Talpers's  place.  "He's  gettin'  a  reg'lar 
prison  pallor  now.  He  used  to  be  hittin'  the 
trail  once  in  a  while,  but  nowadays  he's 
hangin'  around  that  post-office  section  as  if 
he  expected  a  letter  notifyin'  him  that  a  rich 
uncle  had  died." 

"Mebbe  he's  afraid  of  travelin'  these 
parts  since  that  feller  was  killed  on  the 
Dollar  Sign,"  suggested  another  cowboy. 
"Doggoned  if  I  don't  feel  a  little  shaky 
myself  sometimes  when  I  'm  ridin'  that  road 
alone  at  night.  Looks  like  some  of  them 
Injuns  ought  to  have  been  hung  for  that 
murder,  right  off  the  reel,  and  then  folks 'd 
feel  a  lot  easier  in  their  minds." 


MYSTERY  RANCH  217 

The  talk  then  would  drift  invariably  to 
the  subject  of  the  murder  and  the  general 
folly  of  the  court  in  allowing  Fire  Bear  to 
go  on  the  Indian  agent's  recognizance.  But 
Talpers,  though  he  heard  the  chorus  of 
denunciation  from  the  back  of  the  store, 
and  though  he  was  frequently  called  upon 
for  an  opinion,  never  could  be  drawn  into 
the  conversation.  He  bullied  his  clerk  as 
usual,  and  once  in  a  while  swept  down,  in  a 
storm  of  baseless  anger,  upon  some  unof- 
fending Indian,  just  to  show  that  Bill  Tal- 
pers was  still  a  man  to  be  feared,  but  for  the 
most  part  he  waited  silently,  with  the  con- 
fidence of  a  man  who  holds  a  winning  hand 
at  cards. 

The  same  days  that  saw  Talpers's  con- 
fidence returning  were  days  of  dissatisfac- 
tion to  Lowell.  He  felt  that  he  was  being 
constantly  thwarted.  He  would  have  pre- 
ferred to  give  his  entire  attention  to  the 
murder  mystery,  but  details  of  reservation 
management  crowded  upon  him  in  a  way 
that  made  avoidance  impossible.  Among 
his  duties  Lowell  found  that  he  must  act  as 


218  MYSTERY  RANCH 

judge  and  jury  in  many  cases  that  came 
up.  There  were  domestic  difficulties  to  be 
straightened  out,  and  thieves  and  brawlers 
to  be  sentenced.  Likewise  there  was  occa- 
sional flotsam,  cast  up  from  the  human  sea 
outside  the  reservation,  which  required  at- 
tention. 

One  of  those  reminders  of  the  outer  world 
was  brought  in  by  an  Indian  policeman.  The 
stranger  was  a  rough-looking  individual,  to 
all  appearances  a  harmless  tramp,  who  had 
been  picked  up  "hoofing  it"  across  the 
reservation. 

The  Indian  policeman  explained,  through 
the  interpreter,  that  he  had  found  the  wan- 
derer near  a  sub-agency,  several  miles  away 
—  that  he  had  shown  a  disposition  to  fight, 
and  had  only  been  cowed  by  the  prompt 
presentation  of  a  revolver  at  his  head. 

"  Why,  you  're  no  tramp  —  you  're  a  yegg- 
man,"  said  Lowell  to  the  prisoner,  inter- 
rupting voluble  protestations  of  innocence. 
"You're  one  of  the  gentry  that  live  off 
small  post-offices  and  banks.  I'll  bet  you 
Ve  stolen  stamps  enough  in  your  career  to 


MYSTERY  RANCH  219 

keep  the  Post-Office  Department  going  six 
months.  And  you've  given  heart  disease 
to  no  end  of  stockholders  in  small  banks  — 
prosperous  citizens  who  have  had  to  make 
good  the  losses  caused  by  your  safe-breaking 
operations.  Am  I  bringing  an  unjust  in- 
dictment against  you,  pardner?  " 

A  flicker  of  a  smile  was  discernible  some- 
where in  the  tangle  of  beard  that  hid  the 
lineaments  of  the  prisoner's  face. 

"If  I  inventoried  the  contents  of  this 
bundle,"  continued  Lowell,  "I'd  find  a 
pretty  complete  outfit  of  the  tools  that  keep 
the  safe  companies  working  overtime  on 
replacements,  would  n't  I?" 

The  prisoner  nodded. 

"There's  no  use  of  my  dodgin',  judge," 
he  said.  "The  tools  are  there  —  all  of  'em. 
But  I  'm  through  with  the  game.  All  I  want 
now  is  enough  of  a  stake  to  get  me  back 
home  to  Omaha,  where  the  family  is.  That 's 
why  I  was  footin'  it  acrost  this  Injun  coun- 
try —  takin'  a  short  cut  to  a  railroad  where 
I  would  n't  be  watched  for." 

"I'll    consider    your    case    awhile,"    re- 


220  MYSTERY  RANCH 

marked  Lowell  after  a  moment's  thought. 
"Perhaps  we  can  speed  you  on  your  way  to 
Omaha  and  the  family." 

The  prisoner  was  taken  back  to  the  agency 
jail  leaving  his  bundle  on  Lowell's  desk. 
About  midnight  Lowell  took  the  bundle 
and,  going  to  the  jail,  roused  the  policeman 
who  was  on  guard  and  was  admitted  to  the 
prisoner's  cell. 

"Look  here,  Red,"  said  Lowell.  "Your 
name  is  Red,  is  n't  it?" 

"RedEgan." 

"Well,  Red  Egan,  did  you  ever  hear  of 
Jimmy  Valentine?" 

The  prisoner  scratched  his  head  while  he 
puffed  at  a  welcome  cigarette. 

"No?  Well,  Red,  this  Jimmy  Valentine 
was  in  the  business  you're  quitting,  and  he 
opened  a  safe  in  a  good  cause.  I  want  you 
to  do  the  same  for  me.  If  you  can  do  a  neat 
job,  with  no  noise,  I'll  see  that  you  get 
across  the  reservation  all  right,  with  stake 
enough  to  get  you  to  Omaha." 

"You're  on,  judge!  I'd  crack  one  more 
for  a  good  scout  like  you  any  day." 


MYSTERY  RANCH  ii\ 

Three  quarters  of  an  hour  later  Red  Egan 
was  working  professionally  upon  the  safe 
in  Bill  Talpers's  store.  The  door  to  Tal- 
pers's  sleeping-room  was  not  far  away,  but 
it  was  closed,  and  the  trader  was  a  thorough 
sleeper,  so  the  cracksman  might  have  been 
conducting  operations  a  mile  distant,  so  far 
as  interruption  from  Bill  was  concerned. 

As  he  worked,  Red  Egan  told  whispered 
stories  to  a  companion  —  stories  which  re- 
lated to  barriers  burned,  pried,  and  blown 
away. 

"I  don't  mind  how  close  they  sleep  to 
their  junk/'  observed  Red,  as  he  rested  mo- 
mentarily from  his  labors.  " Unless  a  man's 
got  insomnier  and  insists  on  makin'  his  bed 
on  top  of  his  safe,  he  ain't  got  a  chance  to 
make  his  iron  doors  stay  shut  if  one  of  the 
real  good  'uns  takes  a  notion  to  make  'em 
fly  apart.  There  she  goes!'  he  added  a 
moment  later,  as  the  safe  door  swung 
open. 

"All  right,  Red,"  came  the  whispered 
reply,  "but  remember  that  I  get  whatever 
money 's  in  sight,  just  for  appearances'  sake, 


222  MYSTERY  RANCH 

though  it  's  letters  and  such  things  I  'm  really 
after." 

"It  goes  as  you  say,  boss,  and  I  hope  you 
get  what  you  want.  There  goes  that  inside 
door." 

In  the  light  of  a  flash-lamp  Lowell  saw  a 
letter  and  a  roll  of  bills.  He  took  both,  while 
Red  Egan,  his  work  done,  packed  up  the 
kit  of  tools. 

Lowell  had  recognized  Helen's  hand- 
writing on  the  envelope,  and  knew  he  had 
found  what  he  wanted. 

"You've  earned  that  trip  to  Omaha, 
Red,"  said  Lowell,  after  they  had  gone  back 
to  their  horses  which  had  been  standing  in  a 
cottonwood  grove  near  by.  "When  we  get 
back  to  the  agency  I'll  put  you  in  my  car 
and  drive  you  far  enough  by  daybreak  so 
that  you  can  catch  a  train  at  noon.': 

"  You  're  a  square  guy,  judge,  but  if  that 's 
the  letter  you've  been  wan  tin'  to  get,  why 
don't  you  read  it?  Or  maybe  you  know 
what's  in  it  without  readin'  it." 

"No,  I  don't  know  what's  in  it,  and  I 
don't  want  to  read  it,  Red." 


MYSTERY  RANCH  223 

Red's  amazed  whistle  cut  through  the 
night  silence. 

"Well,  if  that  ain't  the  limit!  Havin'  a 
safe-crackin'  job  done  for  a  letter  that  you 
ain't  ever  seen  and  don't  want  to  see  the 
inside  of!" 

"It's  all  right,  Red.  Don't  worry  about 
it,  because  you  've  earned  your  money  twice 
over  to-night.  Don't  look  on  your  last  job 
as  a  failure,  by  any  means." 

A  few  hours  later  the  Indian  agent,  not 
looking  like  a  man  who  had  been  up  all 
night,  halted  his  car  at  Talpers's  store,  after 
he  had  received  an  excited  hail  from  Andy 
Wolters. 

"You're  jest  in  time!"  exclaimed  Andy. 
"Bill  Talpers's  safe  has  been  cracked  and 
Bill  is  jest  now  tryin'  to  figger  the  damage. 
He  says  he 's  lost  a  roll  of  money  and  some 
other  things." 

Lowell  found  Talpers  going  excitedly 
through  the  contents  of  his  broken  safe.  It 
was  not  the  first  time  the  trader  had  pawed 
over  the  papers.   Nor  were  the  oaths  that 


224  MYSTERY  RANCH 

fell  on  Lowell's  ears  the  first  that  the  trader 
had  uttered  since  the  discovery  that  he  had 
been  robbed  as  he  slept. 

It  was  plain  enough  that  Talpers  was  suf- 
fering from  a  deeper  shock  than  could  come 
through  any  mere  loss  of  money.  Not  even 
when  Lowell  contrived  to  drop  the  roll  of 
bills,  where  the  trader's  clerk  picked  it  up 
with  a  whoop  of  glee,  did  Talpers's  expres- 
sion change.  His  oaths  were  those  of  a  man 
distraught,  and  the  contumely  he  heaped 
upon  Sheriff  Tom  Redmond  moved  that 
official  to  a  spirited  defense. 

"  I  can 't  see  why  you  hold  me  responsible 
for  a  safe  that  you've  been  keeping  within 
earshot  all  these  years,"  retorted  Tom,  in 
answer  to  Talpers's  sneers  about  the  lack 
of  protection  afforded  the  county's  business 
men.  "If  you  can't  hear  a  yeggman  work- 
ing right  next  to  your  sleeping-quarters, 
how  do  you  expect  me  to  hear  him,  'way 
over  to  White  Lodge?  I  '11  leave  it  to  Lowell 
here  if  your  complaint  is  reasonable.  I  '11  do 
the  best  I  can  to  get  this  man,  but  it  looks 
to  me  as  if  he's  made  a  clean  getaway. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  225 

What  sort  of  papers  was  it  you  said  you 
lost,  Bill?" 

"I  did  n't  say." 

"Well,  then,  I'm  asking  you.  Was  they 
long  or  short,  rolled  or  flat,  or  tied  with  pink 
ribbon?" 

"Never  mind!"  roared  Talpers.  "You 
round  up  this  burglar  and  let  me  go  through 
him.    I  '11  get  what 's  mine,    11  right.,: 

Redmond  made  a  gesture  of  despair.  A 
man  who  had  been  robbed  and  had  recov- 
ered his  money,  and  was  so  keen  after  papers 
that  he  would  n't  or  could  n't  describe,  was 
past  all  fooling  with.  The  sheriff  rode  off, 
grumbling,  without  even  questioning  Lowell 
to  ascertain  if  the  Indian  police  had  seen 
any  suspicious  characters  on  the  reservation. 

Bill  Talpers's  mental  convolutions  fol- 
lowing the  robbery  reminded  Lowell  of  the 
writhing  of  a  wounded  snake.  Bill's  fear 
was  that  the  letter  would  be  picked  up  and 
sent  back  to  the  girl  at  the  Greek  Letter 
Ranch.  Suspicion  of  a  plot  in  the  affair  did 
not  enter  his  head.  To  him  it  was  just  a 
sinister  stroke  of  misfortune  —  one  of  the 


226  MYSTERY  RANCH 

chance  buffets  of  fate.  One  tramp  burglar 
out  of  the  many  pursuing  that  vocation  had 
happened  upon  the  Talpers  establishment 
at  a  time  when  its  proprietor  was  in  an  un- 
usually sound  sleep.  Bill  gave  himself  over 
to  thoughts  of  the  various  forms  of  punish- 
ment he  would  inflict  upon  the  wandering 
yeggman  in  case  a  capture  were  effected  — 
thoughts  which  came  to  naught,  as  Red 
Egan  had  been  given  so  generous  a  start 
toward  his  Omaha  goal  that  he  never  was 
headed. 

As  the  days  went  past  and  the  letter  was 
not  discovered,  Bill  began  to  gather  hope. 
Perhaps  the  burglar,  thinking  the  letter  of 
no  value,  had  destroyed  it,  in  natural  dis- 
gust at  finding  that  he  had  dropped  the 
money  which  undoubtedly  was  the  real 
object  of  his  safe-breaking. 

If  Talpers  had  known  what  had  really 
happened  to  the  letter,  all  his  self-comfort- 
ings  would  have  vanished.  Lowell  had  lost 
no  time  in  taking  the  missive  to  Helen.  He 
had  found  affairs  at  the  Greek  Letter  Ranch 
apparently  unchanged.   Wong  was  at  work 


MYSTERY  RANCH  227 

in  the  kitchen.  Two  Indians,  who  had  been 
hired  to  harvest  the  hay,  which  was  the  only 
crop  on  the  ranch,  were  busy  in  a  near-by 
field.  Helen,  looking  charming  in  a  house 
dress  of  blue,  with  white  collar  and  cuffs, 
was  feeding  a  tame  magpie  when  Lowell 
drove  into  the  yard. 

"Moving  picture  entitled  'The  Metamor- 
phosis of  Miss  Tatters/ "  said  Lowell, 
amusedly  surveying  her. 

"The  scratches  still  survive,  but  the 
riding-suit  will  take  a  lot  of  mending,"  said 
Helen,  showing  her  scratched  hands  and 
wrists. 

"Well,  if  this  very  becoming  costume  has 
a  pocket,  here 's  something  to  put  in  it,"  re- 
marked Lowell,  handing  her  the  letter. 

Helen's  smile  was  succeeded  by  a  startled, 
anxious  look,  as  she  glanced  at  the  envelope 
and  then  at  Lowell. 

"No  need  for  worry,"  Lowell  assured  her. 
"Nobody  has  read  that  letter  since  it  passed 
out  of  the  possession  of  our  esteemed  post- 
master, Bill  Talpers,  sometime  after  one 
o'clock  this  morning." 


228  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"But  how  did  he  come  to  give  it  up?" 
asked  Helen,  her  voice  wavering. 

"He  did  not  do  so  willingly.  It  might  be 
said  he  did  not  give  it  up  knowingly.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  our  friend  Talpers  had  no 
idea  he  had  lost  his  precious  possession  until 
it  had  been  gone  several  hours." 

"But  how—" 

"  'How'  is  a  word  to  be  flung  at  Red 
Egan,  knight  of  the  steel  drill  and  the  nitro 
bottle  and  other  what-nots  of  up-to-date 
burglary,"  said  Lowell.  "Though  I  saw  the 
thing  done,  I  can't  tell  you  how.  I  only 
hope  it  clears  matters  for  you."     H 

"It  does  in  a  way.  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
grateful  I  am,"  said  Helen,  her  trembling 
hands  tightly  clutching  the  letter. 

"Only  in  a  way?  I  am  sorry  it  does  not 
do  more." 

"But  it's  a  very  important  way,  I  assure 
you ! "  exclaimed  Helen.  "It  eliminates  this 
man  —  this  Talpers  —  as  a  personal  men- 
ace. But  when  you  are  so  eager  to  get  every 
thread  of  evidence,  how  is  it  that  you  can 
give  this  letter  to  me,  unread?   You  must 


MYSTERY  RANCH  119 

feel  sure  it  has  some  bearing"  on  the  awful 
thing  —  the  tragedy  that  took  place  back 
there  on  the  hill." 

"That  is  where  faith  rises  superior  to  a 
very  human  desire  to  look  into  the  details 
of  mystery,"  said  Lowell.  "If  I  were  a  real 
detective,  or  spy,  as  you  characterized  me, 
I  would  have  read  that  letter  at  the  first 
opportunity.  But  I  knew  that  my  reading 
it  would  cause  you  grave  personal  concern. 
I  have  faith  in  you  to  the  extent  that  I  be- 
lieve you  would  do  nothing  to  bring  injus- 
tice upon  others.  Consequently,  from  now 
on  I  will  proceed  to  forget  that  this  letter 
ever  existed." 

"You  may  regret  that  you  have  acted  in 
this  generous  manner,"  said  the  girl.  "  What 
if  you  find  that  all  your  faith  has  been  mis- 
placed —  that  I  am  not  worthy  of  the 
trust—" 

"Really,  there  is  nothing  to  be  gained 
by  saying  such  things,"  interposed  Lowell. 
"As  I  told  you,  I  am  forgetting  that  the 
letter  ever  existed." 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "I  wish  this 


23o  MYSTERY  RANCH 

letter  could  have  come  back  to  me  from  any 
one  but  you?" 

"Why?" 

"Because,  coming  as  it  has,  I  am  more 
or  less  constrained  to  act  as  fairly  as  you 
believe  I  shall  act." 

"You  might  give  it  back  to  Talpers  and 
start  in  on  any  sort  of  a  deal  you  chose." 

"Impossible!  For  fear  Talpers  may  get 
it,  here  is  what  I  shall  do  to  the  letter." 

Here  Helen  tore  it  in  small  pieces 
and  tossed  them  high  in  the  air,  the 
breeze  carrying  them  about  the  yard  like 
snow. 

"In  which  event,"  laughed  Lowell,  "it 
seems  that  I  win,  and  my  faith  in  you  is  to 
be  justified." 

"I  wish  I  could  assure  you  of  as  much," 
answered  Helen  sadly.  "But  if  it  happens 
that  your  trust  is  not  justified,  I  hope  you 
will  not  think  too  harshly  of  me." 

"Harshly!"  exclaimed  Lowell.  "Harsh- 
ly! Why,  if  you  practiced  revolver  shoot- 
ing on  me  an  hour  before  breakfast  every 
morning,  or  if  you  used  me  for  a  doormat 


MYSTERY  RANCH  23 1 

here  at  the  Greek  Letter  Ranch,  I  could  n't 
think  anything  but  lovingly  of  you." 

"Oh!"  cried  Helen,  clapping  her  hands 
over  her  ears  and  running  up  the  porch  steps, 
as  Lowell  turned  to  his  automobile.  "  You  Ve 
almost  undone  all  the  good  you've  accom- 
plished to-day." 

"Thanks  for  that  word  "almost,"' 
laughed  Lowell. 

"Then  I'll  make  it  'quite,'  "  flung  Helen, 
but  her  words  were  lost  in  the  shifting  of 
gears  as  Lowell  started  back  to  the  agency. 

That  night  Helen  dreamed  that  Bill  Tal- 
pers,  on  hands  and  knees,  was  moving  like 
a  misshapen  shadow  about  the  yard  in  the 
moonlight  picking  up  the  letter  which  she 
had  torn  to  pieces. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Sheriff  Tom  Redmond  sat  in  Lowell's 
office  at  the  agency,  staring  grimly  across 
at  the  little  park,  where  the  down  from  the 
cottonwood  trees  clung  to  the  grass  like 
snow.  The  sheriff  had  just  brought  himself 
to  a  virtual  admission  that  he  had  been  in 
the  wrong. 

"I  was  going  to  say/5  remarked  Tom, 
"that,  in  case  you  catch  Jim  McFann,  per- 
haps the  best  thing  would  be  for  you  to  sort 
o'  close-herd  him  at  the  agency  jail  here 
until  time  for  trial." 

Lowell  looked  at  the  sheriff  inquiringly. 

"I  '11  admit  that  I 've  been  sort  of  clamor- 
ing for  you  to  let  me  bring  a  big  posse  over 
here  and  round  up  McFann  in  a  hurry. 
Well,  I  don't  believe  that  scheme  would 
work." 

"I'm  glad  we  agree  on  that  point." 

"You've  been  taking  the  ground  that 
unless  we  brought  a  lot  of  men    over,  we 


MYSTERY  RANCH  233 

could  n't  do  any  better  than  the  Injun 
police  in  the  matter  of  catching  this  half- 
breed.  Also  you  've  said  that  if  we  did  bring 
a  small  army  of  cattlemen,  it  would  only 
be  a  lynching  party,  and  Jim  McFann'd 
never  live  to  reach  the  jail  at  White  Lodge.'1 

"I  don't  think  anything  could  stop  a 
lynching." 

"Well,  I  believe  you  're  right.  The  boys 
have  been  riding  me,  stronger  and  stronger, 
to  get  up  a  posse  and  come  over  here.  In 
fact,  they  got  so  strong  that  I  suspected 
they  had  something  up  their  sleeves.  When 
I  sort  o'  backed  up  on  the  proposition,  a  lot 
of  them  began  pulling  wires  at  Washington, 
so's  to  make  you  get  orders  that'd  let  us 
come  on  the  reservation  and  get  both  of 
these  men." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Lowell,  "but  they've 
found  they  can't  make  any  headway,  even 
with  their  own  Congressmen,  because  Judge 
Garford's  stand  is  too  well  known.  He's  let 
everybody  know  that  he's  against  anything 
that  may  bring  about  a  lynching.  So  far  as 
the  Department  is  concerned,  I've  put  mat- 


234  MYSTERY  RANCH 

ters  squarely  up  to  it  and  have  been  advised 
to  use  my  own  judgment." 

"Well,  I  never  seen  people  so  wrought  up, 
and  I  'm  free  to  admit  now  that  if  Jim  Mc- 
Fann  hadn't  broke  jail  he'd  have  been 
lynched  on  the  very  day  that  he  made  his 
getaway.  The  only  question  is  —  do  you 
think  you  can  get  him  before  the  trial,  and 
are  you  sure  the  Injun '11  come  in?" 

"I'm  not  sure  of.  anything,  of  course," 
replied  Lowell,  "but  I've  staked  everything 
on  Fire  Bear  making  good  his  word.  If  he 
doesn't,  I'm  ready  to  quit  the  country. 
McFann's  a  different  proposition.  He  has 
been  too  clever  for  the  police,  but  I  have 
rather  hesitated  about  having  Plenty  Buf- 
falo risk  the  lives  of  his  men,  because  I  have 
had  a  feeling  that  McFann  might  be  reached 
in  a  different  way.  I'm  sure  he's  been  get- 
ting supplies  from  the  man  who  has  been 
using  him  in  bootlegging  operations." 

"You  mean  Talpers?" 

"Yes.  If  McFann  is  mixed  up  in  any- 
thing, from  bootlegging  to  bigger  crimes,  he 
is  only  a  tool.   He  can  be  a  dangerous  tool  — 


MYSTERY  RANCH  23S 

that 's  admitted  —  but  I  'd  like  to  gather  in 
the  fellow  who  does  the  planning." 

"By  golly !  I  wish  I  had  you  working  with 
me  on  this  murder  case,"  said  Redmond,  in 
a  burst  of  confidence.  "I'll  admit  I  never 
had  anything  stump  me  the  way  this  case 
has.  I'm  bringing  up  against  a  blank  wall 
at  every  turn." 

"Haven't  you  found  out  anything  new 
about  Sargent?" 

"Not  a  thing  worth  while.  He  lived 
alone  —  had  lots  of  money  that  he  made  by 
inventing  mining  machinery." 

"Any  relatives?" 

"None  that  we  can  find  out  about.'3 

"Have  you  learned  anything  through  his 
bank?" 

"He  had  plenty  of  money  on  deposit; 
that's  all." 

"Did  he  have  any  lawyers?" 

"Not  that  we've  heard  from." 

"Does  any  one  know  why  he  came  on 
this  trip?" 

"No;  but  he  was  in  the  habit  of  making 
long  jaunts  alone  through  the  West.'2 


236  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"What  sort  of  a  home  did  he  have?  " 

"A  big  house  in  the  suburbs.  Lived  there 
alone  with  two  servants.  They  have  n't 
been  able  to  tell  a  thing  about  him  that's 
worth  a  cuss." 

"  Would  anything  about  his  home  indicate 
what  sort  of  a  man  he  was?  " 

"The  detectives  wrote  something  about 
his  having  a  lot  of  Indian  things  —  Navajo 
blankets  and  such." 

"Indians  may  have  been  his  hobby.  Per- 
haps he  intended  to  visit  this  reserva- 
tion." 

"If  that  was  so,  why  should  he  drive 
through  the  agency  at  night  and  be  killed 
going  away  from  the  reservation?  No,  he 
was  going  somewhere  in  a  hurry  or  he 
would  n't  have  traveled  at  night." 

"But  automobile  tourists  sometimes 
travel  that  way." 

"Not  in  this  part  of  the  country.  In  the 
Southwest,  perhaps,  to  avoid  the  heat  of  the 
day." 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  about  it  all, 
Tom?" 


MYSTERY  RANCH  237 

"That  this  feller  was  a  pilgrim,  going 
somewhere  in  a  hurry.  He  was  held  up  by 
some  of  your  young  bucks  who  were  off  the 
reservation  and  feeling  a  little  too  full  of 
life  for  their  own  good.  A  touch  of  bootleg 
whiskey  might  have  set  them  going.  Mebbe 
that's  where  Jim  McFann  came  in.  They 
might  have  killed  the  man  when  he  resisted. 
The  staking-out  was  probably  an  after- 
thought —  a  piece  of  Injun  or  half-breed 
devilment." 

"How  about  the  sawed-off  shotgun? 
I  doubt  if  there's  one  on  the  reservation." 

"Probably  that  was  Sargent's  own 
weapon.  He  had  traveled  in  the  West  a 
good  many  years.  Mebbe  he  had  used 
sawed-off  shotguns  as  an  express  messenger 
or  something  of  the  sort  in  early  days.  It 's  a 
fact  that  there  ain  't  any  handier  weapon  of 
defense  than  a  sawed-off  shotgun,  no  mat- 
ter what  kind  of  a  wheeled  outfit  you're 
traveling  in." 

"It's  all  reasonable  enough,  Tom,'3  said 
Lowell  reflectively.  "It  may  work  out  just 
as  you  have  figured,  but  frankly  I  don't 


23  8  MYSTERY  RANCH 

believe  the  Indians  and  McFann  are  in  it 
quite  as  far  as  you  think." 

"Well,  if  they  did  n't]  do  it,  who  could 
have?  You've  been  over  the  ground  more 
than  any  one  else.  Have  you  found  any- 
thing to  hang  a  whisper  of  suspicion  on?' 

Lowell  shook  his  head. 

"Nothing  to  talk  about,  but  there  are 
some  things,  indefinite  enough,  perhaps, 
that  make  me  hesitate  about  believing  the 
Indians  to  be  guilty." 

"How  about  McFann?  He's  got  the 
nerve,  all  right." 

"Yes,  McFann  would  kill  if  it  came  to  a 
showdown.  There's  enough  Indian  in  him, 
too,  to  explain  the  staking-down." 

"He  admits  he  was  on  the  scene  of  the 
murder." 

"Yes,  and  his  admission  strengthens  me 
in  the  belief  that  he 's  telling  the  truth,  or  at 
least  that  he  had  no  part  in  the  actual 
killing.  If  he  were  guilty,  he  'd  deny  being 
within  miles  of  the  spot." 

"Mebbe  you're  right,'3  said  the  sheriff, 
rising  and  turning  his  hat  in  his  hand  and 


MYSTERY  RANCH  239 

methodically  prodding  new  and  geometri- 
cally perfect  indentations  in  its  high  crown, 
"but  you've  got  a  strong  popular  opinion 
to  buck.  Most  people  believe  them  Injuns 
and  the  breed  have  a  guilty  knowledge  of 
the  murder." 

"When  you  get  twelve  men  in  the  jury 
box  saying  the  same  thing,"  replied  Lowell, 
"that's  going  to  settle  it.  But  until  then 
I'm  considering  the  case  open." 

Jim  McFann's  camp  was  in  the  loneliest 
of  many  lonely  draws  in  the  sage-gray  up- 
lands where  the  foothills  and  plains  meet. 
It  was  not  a  camp  that  would  appeal  to  the 
luxury-loving.  In  fact,  one  might  almost  fall 
over  it  in  the  brush  before  knowing  that  a 
camp  was  there.  A  "tarp"  bed  was  spread 
on  the  hard,  sun-cracked  soil.  A  saddle 
was  near  by.  There  was  a  frying-pan  or  two 
at  the  edge  of  a  dead  fire.  A  pack-animal 
and  saddle  horse  stood  disconsolately  in  the 
greasewood,  getting  what  slender  grazing 
was  available,  but  not  being  allowed  to 
wander  far.  It  was  the  camp  of  one  who 


24o  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"traveled  light"  and  was  ready  to  go  at  an 
instant's  notice. 

So  well  hidden  was  the  half-breed  that,  in 
spite  of  explicit  directions  that  had  been 
given  by  Bill  Talpers,  Andy  Wolters  had  a 
difficult  time  in  finding  the  camp.  Talpers 
had  sent  Andy  as  his  emissary,  bearing  grub 
and  tobacco  and  a  bottle  of  whiskey  to  the 
half-breed.  Andy  had  turned  and  twisted 
most  of  the  morning  in  the  monotony  of 
sage.  Song  had  died  upon  his  lips  as  the  sun 
had  beaten  upon  him  with  all  its  unclouded 
vigor. 

Andy  did  not  know  it,  but  for  an  hour  he 
had  been  under  the  scrutiny  of  the  half- 
breed,  who  had  been  quick  to  descry  the 
horseman  moving  through  the  brush.  Mc- 
Fann  had  been  expecting  Talpers,  and  he 
was  none  too  pleased  to  find  that  the  trader 
had  sent  the  gossiping  cowpuncher  in  his 
stead.  Andy,  being  one  of  those  ingenuous 
souls  who  never  can  catch  the  undercurrents 
of  life,  rattled  on,  all  unconscious  of  the 
effect  of  light  words,  lightly  flung. 

"You  dig  the  grub  and  other  stuff  out  o* 


MYSTERY  RANCH  241 

that  pack,'3  said  Andy,  "while  I  hunt  an 
inch  or  two  of  shade  and  cool  my  brow. 
When  it  comes  to  makin'  a  success  of  hidin' 
out  in  the  brush,  you  can  beat  one  of  them 
renegade  steers  that  we  miss  every  round- 
up. I  guess  you  ain't  heard  about  the  rob- 
bery that's  happened  in  our  metrolopis  of 
Talpersville,  have  you?" 

The  half-breed  grunted  a  negative. 

"Of  course  not,  seein'  as  you  ain't  gettin' 
the  daily  paper  out  here.  Well,  an  expert 
safe-buster  rode  Bill  Talpers's  iron  treasure- 
chest  to  a  frazzle  the  other  night.  Took 
valuable  papers  that  Bill's  all  fussed  up 
about,  but  dropped  a  wad  of  bills,  big 
enough  to  choke  one  of  them  prehistoric 
bronks  that  used  to  romp  around  in  these 
hills." 

McFann  looked  up  scowlingly  from  his 
task  of  estimating  the  amount  of  grub  that 
had  been  sent. 

"Seems  to  me,"  went  on  Andy,  "that  if  I 
got  back  my  money,  I  would  n't  give  a  durn 
about  papers  —  not  unless  they  was  papers 
that  established  my  rights  as  the  long-lost 


242  MYSTERY  RANCH 

heir  of  some  feller  with  about  twenty  million 
dollars.  That  roll  had  a  thousand-dollar  bill 
wrapped  around  the  outside." 

The  half-breed  straightened  up. 

"How  do  you  know  there  was  a  thousand- 
dollar  bill  in  that  roll?"  he  demanded,  with 
an  intensity  that  surprised  the  cowboy. 

"Bill  told  me  so  himself.  He  had  took  a 
few  snifters,  and  was  feelin'  melancholy  over 
them  papers,  and  I  tried  to  cheer  him  up  by 
tellin'  him  jest  what  I've  told  you,  that  as 
long  as  I  had  my  roll  back,  I  would  n't  care 
about  all  the  hen-tracks  that  spoiled  nice 
white  paper.  He  chirked  up  a  bit  at  that, 
and  got  confidential  and  told  me  about  this 
thousand-dollar  bill.  They  say  it  ain't  the 
only  one  he  had.  The  story  is  that  he  sprung 
one  on  an  Injun  the  other  day  in  payment 
for  a  bunch  o'  steers.  There  must  be  lots 
more  profit  in  prunes  and  shawls  and  the 
other  things  that  Bill  handles  than  most 
people  have  been  thinkin',  with  thousand- 
dollar  bills  comin'  so  easy." 

The  half-breed  was  listening  intently  now. 
He  had  ceased  his  work  about  the  camp, 


MYSTERY  RANCH  1243 

and  was  standing,  with  hands  clenched  and 
head  thrust  forward,  eyeing  Andy  so  nar- 
rowly that  the  cowboy  paused  in  his  narra- 
tive. 

"What's  the  matter,  Jim?"  he  asked; 
"Bill  did  n't  take  any  of  them  thousand- 
dollar  things  from  you,  did  he?" 
&  "Mebbe  not,  and  mebbe  so,"  enigmati- 
cally answered  the  half-breed.  "Go  on  and 
tell  me  the  rest." 

When  he  had  completed  his  story  of  the 
robbery  at  Talpers's  store,  Andy  tilted  his 
enormous  sombrero  over  his  eyes,  and,  lean- 
ing back  in  the  shade,  fell  asleep.  The  half- 
breed  worked  silently  about  the  camp,  occa- 
sionally going  to  a  near-by  knoll  and  looking 
about  for  some  sign  of  life  in  the  sagebrush. 
He  made  some  biscuits  and  coffee  and  fried 
some  bacon,  after  which  he  touched  Andy 
none  too  gently  with  his  moccasined  foot 
and  told  the  cowboy  to  sit  up  and  eat  some- 
thing. 

After  one  or  two  ineffectual  efforts  to 
start  conversation,  the  visitor  gave  up  in 
disgust.  The  meal  was  eaten  in  silence. 


244  MYSTERY  RANCH 

Even  the  obtuse  Andy  sensed  that  some- 
thing was  wrong,  and  made  no  effort  to 
rouse  the  half-breed,  who  ate  grimly  and 
immediately  busied  himself  with  the  dish- 
washing as  soon  as  the  meal  was  over.  Andy 
soon  took  his  departure,  the  half-breed 
directing  him  to  a  route  that  would  lessen 
the  chances  of  his  discovery  by  the  Indian 
police. 

After  Andy  had  gone  the  half-breed 
turned  his  attention  to  the  bottle  which  had 
been  sent  by  Talpers.  He  visited  the  knoll 
occasionally,  but  nothing  alive  could  be  dis- 
cerned in  the  great  wastes  of  sage.  When 
the  shadows  deepened  and  the  chill  of  eve- 
ning came  down  from  the  high  altitudes  of 
the  near-by  peaks,  McFann  staked  out  his 
ponies  in  better  grazing  ground.  Then  he 
built  a  small  camp-fire,  and,  sitting  cross- 
legged  in  the  light,  he  smoked  and  drank, 
and  meditated  upon  the  perfidy  of  Bill 
Talpers. 

McFann  was  astir  at  dawn,  and  there  was 
determination  in  every  move  as  he  brought 
in  the  horses  and  began  to  break  camp. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  245 

The  half-breed  owned  a  ranch  which  had 
come  down  to  him  from  his  Indian  mother. 
Shrewdly  suspecting  that  the  police  had 
ceased  watching  the  ranch,  Jim  made  his 
way  homeward.  His  place  was  located  in 
the  bottom-land  along  a  small  creek.  There 
was  a  shack  on  it,  but  no  attempt  at  culti- 
vation. As  he  looked  the  place  over,  Jim's 
thoughts  became  more  bitter  than  ever.  If 
he  had  farmed  this  land,  the  way  the  agent 
wanted  him  to,  he  could  have  been  inde- 
pendent by  now,  but  instead  of  that  he  had 
listened  to  Talpers's  blandishments  and  now 
had  been  thrown  down  by  his  professed 
friend ! 

Jim  took  off  his  pack  and  threw  his  camp- 
ing equipment  inside  the  shack.  Then  he 
turned  his  pack-animal  into  the  wild  hay  in 
the  pasture  he  had  fenced  off  in  the  creek 
bottom.  He  had  some  other  live  stock 
roaming  around  in  the  little  valley  — 
enough  steers  and  horses  to  make  a  begin- 
ning toward  a  comfortable  independence,  if 
he  had  only  had  sense  enough  to  start  in 
that  way.   Also  there  was  good  soil  on  the 


246  MYSTERY  RANCH 

upland.  He  could  run  a  ditch  from  the 
creek  to  the  nearest  mesa,  where  the  land 
was  red  and  sandy  and  would  raise  any- 
thing. The  reservation  agriculturist  had 
been  along  and  had  shown  him  just  how  the 
trick  could  be  done,  but  Bill  Talpers's  boot- 
legging schemes  looked  a  lot  better  then ! 

The  half-breed  slammed  his  shack  door 
shut  and  rode  away  with  his  greasy  hat- 
brim  pulled  well  over  his  eyes.  He  paid  little 
attention  to  the  demands  he  was  making  on 
horseflesh,  and  he  rode  openly  across  the 
country.  If  the  Indian  police  saw  him,  he 
could  outdistance  them.  The  thing  that 
he  had  set  out  to  do  could  be  done  quickly. 
After  that,  nothing  mattered  much. 

Skirting  the  ridge  on  which  Helen  and 
Lowell  had  stood,  Jim  made  a  detour  as  he 
approached  the  reservation  line  and  avoided 
the  Greek  Letter  Ranch.  He  swung  into 
the  road  well  above  the  ranch,  and,  breast- 
ing the  hill  where  the  murder  had  taken 
place  on  the  Dollar  Sign,  he  galloped  down 
the  slope  toward  Talpers's  store. 

The  trader  was  alone  in  his  store  when  the 


MYSTERY  RANCH  247 

half-breed  entered.  Talpers  had  seen  Mc- 
Fann  coming,  some  distance  down  the  road. 
Something  in  the  half-breed's  bearing  in  the 
saddle,  or  perhaps  it  was  some  inner  stir  of 
guilty  fear,  made  Talpers  half-draw  his  re- 
volver. Then  he  thrust  it  back  into  its  hol- 
ster, and,  swinging  around  in  his  chair, 
awaited  his  partner's  arrival.  He  even  at- 
tempted a  jaunty  greeting.  \ 

"  Hello,  Jim,"  he  called,  as  the  half-breed's 
lithe  figure  swung  in  through  the  outer  door- 
way; "ain't  you  even  a  little  afraid  of  the 
Injun  police?" 

McFann  did  not  answer,  but  flung  open 
the  door  into  Bill's  sanctum.  It  was  no  un- 
usual thing  for  the  men  to  confer  there,  and 
two  or  three  Indians  on  the  front  porch  did 
not  even  turn  their  heads  to  see  what  was 
going  on  inside.  Talpers's  clerk  was  out  and 
Andy  Wolters  had  just  departed,  after  re- 
porting to  the  trader  that  the  half-breed 
had  seemed  "plumb  uneasy  out  there  in  the 
brush."  Andy  had  not  told  Bill  the  cause  of 
McFann's  uneasiness,  but  on  that  point  the 
trader  was  soon  to  be  enlightened. 


248  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"Bill,"  said  the  half-breed  purringly,  "I 
hear  you  've  been  having  your  safe  cracked." 

Something  in  the  half-breed's  voice  made 
the  trader  wish  he  had  not  shoved  back  that 
revolver.  It  would  not  do  to  reach  for  it 
now.  McFann's  hands  were  empty,  but  he 
was  lightning  in  getting  them  to  his  guns. 

The  trader's  lips  seemed  more  than  usu- 
ally dry  and  cracked.  His  voice  wheezed  at 
the  first  word,  as  he  answered. 

"Yes,  Jim,  I  was  robbed,"  he  said. 
Then  he  added,  propitiatingly :  "But  I've 
got  a  new  safe.   Ain't  she  a  beauty? ' 

"She  sure  is,"  replied  McFann,  though  he 
did  not  take  his  eyes  off  Talpers.  "Got 
your  name  on,  and  everything,  Let's  open 
her  up,  and  see  what  a  real  safe  looks  like 
inside." 

Talpers  turned  without  question  and 
began  fumbling  at  the  combination.  His 
hands  trembled,  and  once  he  dropped  them 
at  his  side.  As  he  did  so  McFann's  hands 
moved  almost  imperceptibly.  Their  move- 
ment was  toward  the  half-breed's  hips,  and 
Talpers  brought  his  own  hands  quickly  back 


MYSTERY  RANCH  249 

to  the  combination.   The  tumblers  fell,  and 
the  trader  swung  the  door  open. 

"  Purtier  'n  a  new  pair  of  boots,"  approved 
the  half-breed,  as  a  brave  array  of  books  and 
inner  drawers  came  in  view.  'Now  them 
inside  boxes.  The  one  with  the  thousand- 
dollar  bill  in  it." 

"Why,  what's  gittin'  into  you,  Jim?" 
almost  whined  Talpers.  "You  know  I  ain't 
got  any  thousand-dollar  bill." 

"Don't  lie  to  me,"  snapped  the  half- 
breed,  a  harsh  note  coming  into  his  voice. 
"  You've  made  your  talk  about  a  thousand- 
dollar  bill.   I  want  to  see  it  —  that's  all.': 

Slowly  Talpers  unlocked  the  inner  strong 
box  and  took  therefrom  a  roll  of  money. 

"There  it  is,"  he  said,  handing  it  to  Mc- 
Fann.  A  thousand-dollar  bill  was  on  the 
outside  of  the  roll. 

"I  ain't  going  to  ask  where  you  got  that,'5 
said  McFann  steadily,  "because  you'd  lie 
to  me.  But  I  know.  You  took  it  from  that 
man  oh  the  hill.  You  told  me  you'd  jest 
found  him  there  when  I  come  on  you  prowl- 
ing around  his  body.   You  said  you  did  n't 


250  MYSTERY  RANCH 

take  anything  from  him,  and  I  was  fool 
enough  to  believe  you.  But  you  did  n't  get 
these  thousand-dollar  bills  anywhere  else. 
You  double-crossed  me,  and  if  things  got 
too  warm  for  you,  you  was  going  to  saw 
everything  off  on  me.  Easy  enough  when 
I  was  hiding  out  there  in  the  sagebrush, 
living  on  what  you  wanted  to  send  out  to 
me.  I  Ve  done  all  this  bootlegging  work  for 
you,  and  I  covered  up  for  you  in  court,  about 
this  murder,  all  because  I  thought  you  was 
on  the  square.  And  all  the  time  you  had 
took  your  pickings  from  this  man  on  the  hill 
and  had  fooled  me  into  thinking  you  did  n't 
find  a  thing  on  him.  Here's  the  money, 
Bill.  I  would  n't  take  it  away  from  you. 
Lock  it  in  your  safe  again  —  if  you  can ! ' 

The  half-breed  flung  the  roll  of  bills  in 
Talpers's  face.  The  trader,  made  desperate 
by  fear,  flung  himself  toward  McFann.  If 
he  could  pinion  the  half-breed's  arms  to  his 
side,  there  could  be  but  one  outcome  to  the 
struggle  that  had  been  launched.  The  tra- 
der's great  weight  and  grizzly-like  strength 
would  be  too  much  for  the  wiry  half-breed 


MYSTERY  RANCH  251 

to  overcome.  But  McFann  slipped  easily 
away  from  Talpers's  clutching  hands.  The 
trader  brought  up  against  the  mailing  desk 
with  a  crash  that  shook  the  entire  build- 
ing. The  heat  of  combat  warmed  his  chilled 
veins.  Courage  returned  to  him  with  a  rush. 
He  roared  oaths  as  he  righted  himself  and 
dragged  his  revolver  from  the  holster  on 
his  hip. 

Before  the  trader's  gun  could  be  brought 
to  a  shooting  level,  paralysis  seemed  to 
seize  his  arm.  Fire  seared  his  side  and 
unbearable  pain  radiated  therefrom.  Only 
the  righting  man's  instinct  kept  him  on  his 
feet.  His  knees  sagged  and  his  arm  drooped 
slowly,  despite  his  desperate  endeavors  to 
raise  that  blue-steel  weapon  to  its  target. 
He  saw  the  half-breed,  smiling  and  defiant, 
not  three  paces  away,  but  seemingly  in  an- 
other world.  There  was  a  revolver  in  Mc- 
Fann's  hand,  and  faint  tendrils  of  smoke 
came  from  the  weapon. 

Grimly  setting  his  jaws  and  with  his  lips 
parted  in  a  mirthless  grin,  Talpers  crossed 
his  left  hand  to  his  right.    With  both  hands 


252  MYSTERY  RANCH 

he  tried  to  raise  the  revolver,  but  it  only 
sank  lower.  His  knees  gave  way  and  he  slid 
to  the  floor,  his  back  to  his  new  safe  and  his 
swarthy  skin  showing  a  pale  yellow  behind 
his  sparse,  curling  black  beard. 

'Put  the  money  away,  Bill,  put  it  away, 
quick,'3    said    McFann's    mocking    voice. 
"There  it  is,  under  your  knee.  You  sold  out 
your  pardner  for  it  —  now  hide  it  in  your 
new  safe!" 

Talpers's  cracked  lips  formed  no  reply,  but 
his  little  black  eyes  glowed  balef ully  behind 
their  dark,  lowering  brows. 

"You're  good  at  shooting  down  harmless 
Indians,  Bill,"  jeered  McFann,  "but  you're 
too  slow  in  a  real  fight.  Any  word  you  want 
to  send  to  the  Indian  agent?  I'm  going  to 
tell  him  I  believe  you  did  the  murder  on  the 
Dollar  Sign  road." 

A  last  flare  of  rage  caused  Talpers  to 
straighten  up.  Then  the  paralysis  came 
again,  stronger  than  before.  The  revolver 
slipped  from  the  trader's  grasp,  and  his  head 
sank  forward  until  his  chin  rested  on  his 
broad  chest. 


MYSTERY   RANCH  253 

McFann  looked  contemptuously  at  the 
great  figure,  helpless  in  death.  Then  he 
lighted  a  cigarette,  and,  laughing  at  the  ter- 
ror of  the  Indians,  who  haH  been  peeping  in 
the  window  at  the  last  of  the  tragedy,  the 
half-breed  walked  out  of  the  store,  and, 
mounting  his  horse,  rode  to  the  agency  and 
gave  himself  up  to  LowelL 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Lowell  consulted  with  Judge  Garford 
and  Sheriff  Tom  Redmond,  and  it  was  de- 
cided to  keep  Jim  McFann  in  jail  at  the 
agency  until  time  for  his  trial  for  complicity 
in  the  first  murder  on  the  Dollar  Sign  road. 

Sheriff  Redmond  admitted  that,  owing 
to  the  uncertainty  of  public  sentiment,  he 
could  not  guarantee  the  half-breed's  safety 
if  McFann  were  lodged  in  the  county  jail. 
Consequently  the  slayer  of  Bill  Talpers  re- 
mained in  jail  at  the  agency,  under  a  strong 
guard  of  Indian  police,  supplemented  by 
trustworthy  deputies  sent  over  by  Redmond. 

The  killing  of  Talpers  was  the  excuse  for 
another  series  of  attacks  on  Lowell  by  the 
White  Lodge  paper.    Said  the  editor: 

The  murder  of  our  esteemed  neighbor,  William 
Talpers,  by  James  McFann,  a  half-breed,  is  another 
evidence  of  the  necessity  of  opening  the  reservation 
to  white  settlement. 

This  second  murder  on  the  Dollar  Sign  road  is 
not  a  mystery.   Its  perpetrator  was  seen  at  this 


MYSTERY  RANCH  255 

bloody  work.  Furthermore,  he  is  understood  to 
have  coolly  confessed  his  crime.  But,  like  the  first 
murder,  which  is  still  shrouded  in  mystery,  this  was 
a  crime  which  found  its  inception  on  the  Indian 
reservation.  Are  white  residents  adjacent  to  the 
reservation  to  have  their  lives  snuffed  out  at  the 
pleasure  of  Government  wards  and  reservation  off- 
scourings in  general?  Has  not  the  time  come  when 
the  broad  acres  of  the  Indian  reservation,  which 
the  redskins  are  doing  little  with,  should  be  thrown 
open  to  the  plough  of  the  white  man? 

"'Plough  of  the  white  man'  is  good/5 
cynically  observed  Ed  Rogers,  after  calling 
Lowell's  attention  to  the  article.  "If  those 
cattlemen  ever  get  the  reservation  opened, 
they'll  keep  the  nesters  out  for  the  next 
forty  years,  if  they  have  to  kill  a  home- 
steader for  every  hundred  and  sixty  acres. 
So  far  as  Bill  Talpers's  killing  is  concerned, 
I  can't  see  but  what  it  is  looked  upon  as  a 
good  thing  for  the  peace  of  the  community." 

It  seemed  to  be  a  fact  that  Jim  McFann's 
act  had  appealed  irresistibly  to  a  large  ele- 
ment. Youthful  cowpunchers  rode  for  miles 
and  waited  about  the  agency  for  a  glimpse 
of  the  gun-fighter  who  had  slain  the  redoubt- 
able Bill  Talpers  in  such  a  manner.   None  of 


256  MYSTERY  RANCH 

them  could  get  near  the  jail,  but  they  stood 
in  picturesque  groups  about  the  agency,  lis- 
tening to  the  talk  of  Andy  Wolters  and 
others  who  had  been  on  more  or  less  inti- 
mate terms  with  the  principals  in  the  affair. 
"And  there  was  me  a-snoozin'  in  that 
breed's  camp  the  very  day  before  he  done 
this  shootin',"  said  Andy  to  an  appreciative 
circle.  "  He  must  have  had  this  thing  stew- 
in'  in  his  head  at  the  time.  It 's  a  wonder  he 
did  n't  throw  down  on  me,  jest  for  a  little 
target  practice.  But  I  guess  he  figgered  he 
did  n't  need  no  practice  to  get  Bill  Talpers, 
and  judgin'  from  the  way  things  worked  out, 
his  figgerin'  was  right.  Some  artist  with  the 
little  smoke  machine,  that  boy,  'cause  Bill 
Talpers  was  n't  no  slouch  at  shootin' !  I  re- 
member seein'  Bill  shoot  the  head  off  a  rat- 
tlesnake at  the  side  of  the  road,  jest  casual- 
Kke,  and  when  it  come  to  producin'  the 
hardware  he  was  some  quick  for  a  big  man. 
He  more  than  met  his  match  this  time,  old 
Bill  did.  And,  by  gosh!  you  can  bet  that 
nobody  after  this  ever  sends  me  out  to  any 
dry  camps  in  the  brush  to  take  supplies  to 


MYSTERY  RANCH  257 

any  gunman  who  may  be  hid  out  there. 
Next  time  I  might  snooze  and  never  wake 
up. 

All  was  not  adulation  for  Jim  McFann. 
Because  of  the  Indian  strain  in  his  blood  a 
minor  undercurrent  of  prejudice  had  set  in 
against  him,  more  particularly  among  the 
white  settlers  and  the  cattlemen  who  were 
casting  covetous  eyes  on  reservation  lands. 
While  McFann  was  not  strictly  a  ward  of 
the  Government,  he  had  land  on  the  reserva- 
tion. His  lot  was  cast  with  the  Indians, 
chiefly  because  he  found  few  white  men  who 
would  associate  with  him  on  account  of  his 
Indian  blood.  Talpers  was  not  loved,  but 
the  killing  of  any  white  man  by  some  one  of 
Indian  ancestry  was  something  to  fan  re- 
sentment without  regard  to  facts.  Bets  were 
made  that  McFann  would  not  live  to  be 
tried  on  the  second  homicide  charge  against 
him,  many  holding  the  opinion  that  he 
would  be  hanged,  with  Fire  Bear,  for  the 
first  murder.  Also  wagers  were  freely  made 
that  Fire  Bear  would  not  be  produced  in 
court  by  the  Indian  agent,  and  that  it  would 


25 8  MYSTERY  RANCH 

be  necessary  to  send  a  force  of  officers  to  get 
the  accused  Indian. 

Lowell  apparently  paid  no  attention  to 
the  rumors  that  were  flying  about.  A  mass 
of  reservation  detail  had  accumulated,  and 
he  worked  hard  to  get  it  out  of  the  way  be- 
fore the  trial.  He  had  made  changes  in  the 
boarding-school  system,  and  had  established 
an  experimental  farm  at  the  agency.  He 
had  supervised  the  purchase  of  livestock 
for  the  improvement  of  the  tribal  flocks 
and  herds.  In  addition  there  had  been  the 
personal  demands  that  shower  incessantly 
upon  every  Indian  agent  who  is  interested 
in  his  work. 

Reports  from  the  reservation  agricultur- 
ists, whose  work  was  to  help  the  Indians 
along  farming  lines,  were  not  encouraging. 
Drought  was  continuing  without  abatement. 

"The  last  rain  fell  the  day  before  the 
murder  on  the  Dollar  Sign  road,"  said 
Rogers.  "Remember  how  we  splashed 
through  mud  the  day  we  ran  out  there 
and  found  that  man  staked  down  on  the 
prairie  r 


MYSTERY  RANCH  2 $9 

"And  now  the  Indians  are  saying  that 
the  continued  drought  is  due  to  Fire  Bear's 
medicine,"  observed  Lowell.  "Even  some 
of  the  more  conservative  Indians  believe 
there  is  no  use  trying  to  raise  crops  until  the 
charge  against  Fire  Bear  is  dismissed  and  the 
evil  spell  is  lifted." 

In  spite  of  the  details  of  reservation  man- 
agement that  crowded  upon  him,  Lowell 
found  time  for  occasional  visits  to  the  Greek 
Letter  Ranch  to  see  Helen  Ervin.  He  told 
her  the  details  of  the  Talpers  shooting,  so 
far  as  he  knew  them. 

"There  is  n't  much  that  I  can  tell  about 
the  cause  of  the  shooting,"  said  Lowell,  in 
answer  to  one  of  her  questions.  "I  could 
have  had  all  the  details,  but  I  cautioned  Jim 
McFann  to  say  nothing  in  advance  of  his 
trial.  But  from  what  I  have  gathered  here 
and  there,  Jim  and  Talpers  fell  out  over 
money  matters.  A  thousand-dollar  bill  was 
found  on  the  floor  under  Talpers's  body. 
It  had  evidently  been  taken  from  the  safe, 
and  might  have  been  what   they   fought 


over." 


a6o  MYSTERY  RANCH 

Helen  nodded  in  comprehension  of  the 
whole  affair,  though  she  did  not  tell  Lowell 
that  he  had  made  it  clear  to  her.  She  guessed 
that  in  some  way  Jim  McFann  had  come 
into  possession  of  the  facts  of  his  partner 's 
perfidy.  She  wondered  how  the  half-breed 
had  found  out  that  Talpers  had  taken 
money  from  the  murdered  man  and  had  not 
divided.  She  had  held  that  knowledge  over 
Talpers's  head  as  a  club.  She  could  see 
that  he  feared  McFann,  and  she  wondered 
if,  in  his  last  moments,  Talpers  had  wrong- 
fully blamed  her  for  giving  the  half-breed 
the  information  which  turned  him  into  a 
slayer. 

"Anyway,  it  does  n't  make  much  differ- 
ence what  the  fight  was  over,"  declared 
Lowell.  "Talpers  had  been  playing  a  double 
game  for  a  long  time.  He  tried  just  once 
too  often  to  cheat  his  partner  —  something 
dangerous  when  that  partner  is  a  fiery- 
tempered  half-breed." 

"Is  this  shooting  of  Talpers  going  to  have 
any  effect  on  McFann's  trial  for  the  other 
murder?"  asked  Helen. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  261 

"It  may  inflame  popular  sentiment 
against  both  men  still  further  —  something 
that  never  seems  to  be  difficult  where  Indi- 
ans are  concerned.' ' 

Lowell  tried  in  vain  to  lead  the  talk  away 
from  the  trial. 

"Look  here,"  he  exclaimed  finally,  "you 
're  worrying  yourself  unnecessarily  over 
this !  I  don't  believe  you  're  getting  much  of 
any  sleep,  and  I'll  bet  Wong  will  testify 
that  you  are  eating  very  little.  You  must 
n't  let  matters  weigh  on  your  mind  so. 
Talpers  is  gone,  and  you  have  the  letter 
that  was  in  his  safe  and  that  he  used  as  a 
means  of  worrying  you.  Your  stepfather  is 
getting  better  right  along  —  so  much  so 
that  you  can  leave  here  at  any  time.  Pretty 
soon  you'll  have  this  place  of  tragedy  off 
your  mind  and  you'll  forget  all  about  the 
Indian  reservation  and  everything  it  con- 
tains. But  until  that  time  comes,  I  prescribe 
an  automobile  ride  for  you  every  day.  Some 
of  the  roads  around  here  will  make  it  certain 
that  you  will  be  well  shaken  before  the 
prescription  is  taken." 


a6i  MYSTERY  RANCH 

Lowell  regretted  his  light  words  as  soon 
as  he  had  uttered  them. 

"This  trial  is  my  whole  life,"  declared  the 
girl  solemnly.  "If  those  men  are  convicted, 
there  can  never  be  another  day  of  happiness 
for  me!" 

On  the  morning  set  for  the  opening  of  the 
trial,  Lowell  left  his  automobile  in  front  of 
his  residence  while  he  ate  breakfast.  To  all 
appearances  there  was  nothing  unusual 
about  this  breakfast.  It  was  served  at  the 
customary  time  and  in  the  customary  way. 
Apparently  the  young  Indian  agent  was  in- 
terested only  in  the  meal  and  in  some  letters 
which  had  been  sent  over  from  the  office,  but 
finally  he  looked  up  and  smiled  at  the  un- 
easiness of  his  housekeeper,  who  had  cast 
frequent  glances  out  of  the  window. 

"What  is  it,  Mrs.  Ruel?"  asked  Lowell. 

"  The  Indian — Fire  Bear.  Has  he  come?" 

"Oh,  that's  what's  worrying  you,  is  it? 
Well,  don't  let  it  do  so  any  more.  He  will 
be  here  all  right." 

Mrs.  Ruel  looked  doubtful  as  she  trotted 


MYSTERY  RANCH  263 

to  the  kitchen.  Returning,  she  stood  in  the 
window,  a  steaming  coffee-pot  in  her  hands. 

"Tell  me  what  you  see,  Sister  Annie," 
said  Lowell  smilingly. 

"Nawthin'  but  the  kids  assemblin'  for 
school.  There's  old  Pete,  the  blacksmith, 
purtendin'  to  be  lookin'  your  machine  over, 
when  he 's  just  come  to  rubber  the  way  I  am, 
f'r  that  red  divvle.  They're  afraid,  most 
of  the  agency  folks,  that  Fire  Bear  won't 
show  up.  I  would  n't  take  an  Injun's  word 
f'r  annythin'  myself  —  me  that  lost  an  uncle 
in  the  Fetterman  massacree.  You're  too 
good  to  'em,  Mister  Lowell.  You  should 
have  yanked  this  Fire  Bear  here  in  hand- 
cuffs —  him  and  McFann  together." 

"Your  coffee  is  fine  —  and  I'll  be  obliged 
if  you'll  pour  me  some  —  but  your  philos- 
ophy is  that  of  the  dark  ages,  Mrs.  Ruel. 
Thanks.  Now  tell  me  what  traveler  ap- 
proaches on  the  king's  highway." 

Mrs.  Ruel  trotted  to  the  window,  with  the 
coffee-pot  still  in  her  hands. 

"It's  some  one  of  them  educated  loafers 
that's  always  hangin'  around  the  trader's 


264  MYSTERY  RANCH 

store.  I  c'n  tell  by  the  hang  of  the  mail- 
order suit.  No,  it  ain't!  He's  climbin'  off 
his  pony,  and  now  he's  jumped  into  the 
back  of  your  automobile,  and  is  settin' 
there,  bold  as  brass,  smokin'  a  cigarette. 
It's  Fire  Bear  himself!" 

"I  thought  so,"  observed  Lowell.  "Now 
another  cup  of  coffee,  please,  and  a  little 
more  of  that  toast,  and  we'll  be  off  to  the 
trial." 

Mrs.  Ruel  returned  to  the  kitchen,  de- 
claring that  it  really  did  n't  prove  anything 
in  general,  because  no  other  agent  could 
make  them  redskins  do  the  things  that  Mis- 
ter Lowell  hypnotized  'em  into  doin'. 

Lowell  finished  his  breakfast  and  climbed 
into  his  automobile,  after  a  few  words  with 
Fire  Bear.  The  young  Indian  had  started 
the  day  before  from  his  camp  in  the  rocks. 
He  had  traveled  alone,  and  had  not  rested 
until  he  reached  the  agency.  Lowell  knew 
there  would  be  much  dancing  in  the  Indian 
camp  until  the  trial  was  over. 

Driving  to  the  agency  jail,  Lowell  had 
McFann  brought  out.  The  half-breed,  un- 


MYSTERY  RANCH  265 

manacled  and  without  a  guard,  sat  beside 
Fire  Bear  in  the  back  seat.  Lowell  decided 
to  take  no  policemen  from  the  reservation. 
He  was  certain  that  Fire  Bear  and  McFann 
would  not  try  to  escape  from  him.  The 
presence  of  Indian  policemen  might  serve 
only  to  fan  the  very  uncertain  public  senti- 
ment into  disastrous  flames. 

White  Lodge  was  crowded  with  cattle- 
men and  homesteaders  and  their  families, 
who  had  come  to  attend  the  trial.  A  public 
holiday  was  made  of  the  occasion,  and  White 
Lodge  had  not  seen  such  a  crowd  since  the 
annual  bronco-busting  carnival. 

As  he  drove  through  the  streets,  Lowell 
was  conscious  of  a  change  in  public  feeling. 
The  prisoners  in  the  automobile  were  eyed 
curiously,  but  without  hatred.  In  fact,  Jim 
McFann's  killing  of  Talpers,  which  had  been 
given  all  sorts  of  dramatic  renditions  at 
camp-fires  and  firesides,  had  raised  that 
worthy  to  the  rank  of  hero  in  the  eyes  of  the 
majority.  Also  the  coming  of  Fire  Bear, 
as  he  had  promised,  sent  up  the  Indian's 
stock.  As  Lowell  took  his  men  to  the  court- 


<i66  MYSTERY  RANCH 

room  he  saw  bets  paid  over  by  men  who  had 
wagered  that  Fire  Bear  would  not  keep  his 
word  and  that  he  would  have  to  be  brought 
to  the  court-room  by  force. 

The  court-house  yard  could  not  hold  the 
overflow  of  spectators  from  the  court-room. 
The  crowd  was  orderly,  though  there  was  a 
tremendous  craning  of  necks  wiien  the  pris- 
oners were  brought  in,  to  see  the  man  who 
had  killed  so  redoubtable  a  gunman  as  Bill 
Talpers.  Getting  a  jury  was  merely  a  mat- 
ter of  form,  as  no  challenges  wTere  made. 
The  trial  opened  with  Fire  Bear  on  the 
stand. 

The  young  Indian  added  nothing  to  the 
testimony  he  had  given  at  his  preliminary 
hearing.  He  told,  briefly,  how  he  and  his 
followers  had  found  the  body  beside  the 
Dollar  Sign  road.  The  prosecuting  attorney 
was  quick  to  sense  a  difference  in  the  way 
the  Indian's  story  was  received.  When  he 
had  first  told  it,  disbelief  was  evident.  To- 
day it  seemed  to  be  impressing  crowd  and 
jury  as  the  truth. 

The  same  sentiment  seemed  to  be  even 


MYSTERY  RANCH  267 

more  pronounced  when  Jim  McFann  took 
the  stand,  after  Fire  Bear's  brief  testimony 
was  concluded  without  cross-examination. 
Audience  and  jury  sat  erect.  Word  was 
passed  out  to  the  crowd  that  the  half-breed 
was  testifying.  In  the  court-room  there  was 
such  a  stir  that  the  bailiff  was  forced  to  rap 
for  order. 

The  prosecuting  attorney,  seeing  the  case 
slipping  away  from  him,  was  moved  to  fran- 
tic denunciations.  He  challenged  McFann's 
every  statement. 

"You  claim  that  you  had  lost  your  lariat 
and  were  looking  for  it.  Also  that  you  came 
upon  this  dead  body,  with  your  rope  used  to 
fasten  the  murdered  man  to  stakes  that  had 
been  driven  into  the  prairie?"  sneered  the 
attorney. 

"Yes;"  said  McFann. 

"And  you  claim  that  you  were  frightened 
away  by  the  arrival  of  Fire  Bear  and  his 
Indians  before  you  had  a  chance  to  remove 
the  rope?" 

"Yes;  but  I  want  to  add  something  to 
that  statement,"  said  the  half-breed. 


268  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"All  right  — what  is  it?" 

"There  was  another  man  by  the  body 
when  I  came  there  looking  for  my  rope." 

"Who  was  that  man?" 

"Talpers." 

A  thrill  ran  through  the  court-room  as  the 
half-breed  went  on  and  described  how  he 
had  found  the  trader  stooping  over  the 
murdered  man,  and  how  Talpers  had  shown 
him  a  watch  which  he  had  taken  from  the 
victim,  but  claimed  that  was  all  the  valu- 
ables that  had  been  found.  Also  he  de- 
scribed how  Talpers  had  prevailed  upon 
him  to  keep  the  trader's  presence  a  secret, 
which  McFann  had  done  in  his  previous 
testimony. 

"  Why  do  you  come  in  with  this  story,  at 
this  late  day?"  asked  the  attorney. 

"Because  Talpers  was  lying  to  me  all  the 
time.  He  had  taken  money  from  that  man 
—  some  of  it  in  thousand-dollar  bills.  I  did 
not  care  for  the  money.  It  was  just  that  this 
man  had  lied  to  me,  after  I  had  done  all  his 
bootlegging  work.  He  was  playing  safe  at 
my  expense.   If  it  had  been  found  that  the 


MYSTERY  RANCH  269 

dead  man  was  robbed,  he  was  ready  to  lay 
the  blame  on  me.  When  I  heard  of  the 
money  he  had  hidden,  I  knew  the  game  he 
had  played.  I  walked  in  on  him,  and  made 
him  take  the  dead  man's  money  from  his 
safe.  I  threw  the  money  in  his  face  and 
dared  him  to  fight.  When  he  tried  to  shoot 
me,  I  killed  him.  It  was  better  that  he 
should  die.  I  don't  care  what  you  do  with 
me,  but  how  are  you  going  to  hang  Fire  Bear 
or  hang  me  for  being  near  that  body,  when 
Bill  Talpers  was  there  first?" 

Jim  McFann's  testimony  remained  un- 
shaken. Cast  doubt  upon  it  as  he  would, 
the  prosecuting  attorney  saw  that  the  half- 
breed's  new  testimony  had  given  an  entirely 
new  direction  to  the  trial.  He  ceased  trying  to 
stem  the  tide  and  let  the  case  go  to  the  jury. 

The  crowd  filed  out,  but  waited  around 
the  court-house  for  the  verdict.  The  irre- 
pressible cowpunchers,  who  had  a  habit  of 
laying  wagers  on  anything  and  everything, 
made  bets  as  to  the  number  of  minutes  the 
jury  would  be  out. 

"Whichever  way  it  goes,  it'll  be  over  in  a 


270  MYSTERY  RANCH 

hurry,"  said  Tom  Redmond  to  Lowell,  "but 
hanged  if  I  don't  believe  your  men  are  as 
good  as  free  this  minute.  Talpers's  friends 
have  been  trying  to  stir  up  a  lot  of  sentiment 
against  Jim  McFann,  but  it  has  worked  the 
other  way.  The  hull  county  seems  to  think 
right  now  that  McFann  done  the  right  sort 
of  a  job,  and  that  Talpers  was  not  only  a 
bootlegger,  but  was  not  above  murder,  and 
was  the  man  who  committed  that  crime  on 
the  Dollar  Sign  road.  Of  course,  if  Talpers 
done  it,  Fire  Bear  could  n't  have.  Further- 
more, this  young  Injun  has  made  an  awful 
hit  by  givin'  himself  up  for  trial  the  way  he 
has.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  did  n't  think 
he'd  show  up." 

Lowell  escaped  as  soon  as  he  could  from 
the  excited  sheriff  and  sought  Helen  Ervin, 
whom  he  had  seen  in  the  court-room. 

"I'm  sorry  I  could  n't  come  to  get  you, 
on  account  of  having  to  bring  in  the  pris- 
oners," said  Lowell,  "but  I  imagine  this  is 
the  last  ride  to  White  Lodge  you  will  have 
to  take.  The  jury  is  going  to  decide  quickly 
—  or  such  is  the  general  feeling." 


bvuvlwl  *^^""t>« 


MYSTERY  RANCH  271 

Lowell  had  hardly  spoken  when  a  shout 
from  the  crowd  on  the  court-house  steps 
announced  to  the  others  that  the  jury  had 
come  in. 

Lowell  and  Helen  found  places  in  the 
court-room.  Judge  Garford  had  not  left 
his  chambers.  As  soon  as  the  crowd  had 
settled  down,  the  foreman  announced  the 
verdict. 

"Not  guilty!'  was  the  word  that  was 
passed  to  those  outside  the  building.  There 
was  a  slight  ripple  of  applause  in  the  court- 
room which  the  bailiff's  gavel  checked. 
Lowell  could  not  help  but  smile  bitterly  as 
he  thought  of  the  different  sentiment  at  the 
close  of  the  preliminary  hearing,  such  a  short 
time  before.  He  wondered  if  the  same 
thought  had  come  to  Judge  Garford.  But  if 
the  aged  jurist  had  made  any  comparisons, 
they  were  not  reflected  in  his  benign  fea- 
tures. A  lifetime  among  scenes  of  turbu- 
lence, and  watching  justice  gain  steady 
ascendancy  over  frontier  lawlessness,  had 
made  the  judge  indifferent  to  the  manifesta- 
tions of  the  moment. 


272  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"It's  just  as  though  we  were  a  lot  of 
jumping-jacks,"  thought  Lowell,  "and  while 
we're  doing  all  sorts  of  crazy  things,  the 
judge  is  looking  far  back  behind  the  scenes 
studying  the  forces  that  are  making  us  go. 
And  he  must  be  satisfied  with  what  he  sees 
or  our  illogical  actions  would  n't  worry  him 
so  little." 

Fire  Bear  and  McFann  took  the  verdict 
with  customary  calm.  The  Indian  was  re- 
leased from  custody  and  took  his  [place  in 
Lowell's  automobile.  The  half-breed  was 
remanded  to  jail  for  trial  for  the  Talpers 
slaying.  Lowell,  after  saying  good-bye  to 
the  half-breed,  lost  no  time  in  starting  for 
the  agency.  On  the  way  he  caught  up  with 
Helen,  who  was  riding  leisurely  homeward. 
As  he  stopped  the  machine  she  reined  up 
her  horse  beside  him  and  extended  her  hand 
in  congratulation. 

"You're  not  the  only  one  who  is  glad  of 
the  acquittal,"  she  exclaimed.  "I  am  glad 
—  oh,  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much ! ", 

Lowell  noticed  that  her  expression  of  girl- 
ishness  had  returned.  The  shadow  which 


MYSTERY  RANCH  273 

had  fallen  upon  her  seemed  to  have  been 
lifted  miraculously. 

"  Was  n't  it  strange  the  way  things  turned 
out?  "  she  went  on.  "A  little  while  ago  every 
one  seemed  to  believe  these  men  were  guilty, 
and  now  there 's  not  a  one  who  does  n  't 
seem  to  think  that  Talpers  did  it.' 

"There's  one  who  doesn't  subscribe  to 
the  general  belief,"  answered  Lowell. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

Lowell  was  conscious  that  she  was  watch- 
ing him  narrowly. 

"I  mean  that  I  don't  believe  Bill  Talpers 
had  anything  to  do  with  murdering  that  man 
on  the  Dollar  Sign  road!" 


CHAPTER  XV 

"There's  one  thing  sure  in*  all  cases  of 
crime :  If  people  would  only  depend  more  on 
Nature  and  less  on  themselves,  they'd  get 
results  sooner." 

Lowell  and  his  chief  clerk  were  finishing 
one  of  their  regular  evening  discussions  of 
the  crime  which  most  people  were  forgetting, 
but  which  still  occupied  the  Indian  agent's 
mind  to  the  complete  exclusion  of  all  res- 
ervation business. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Rogers, 
from  behind  smoke  clouds. 

"Just  the  fact  that,  if  we  can  only  find  it, 
Nature  has  tagged  every  crime  in  a  way 
that  makes  it  possible  to  get  an  answer.'2 

"But  there  are  lots  of  crimes  in  which  no 
manifestation  of  Nature  is  possible.'2 

"Not  a  one.  What  are  finger-prints  but 
manifestations  of  Nature?  And  yet  for  ages 
we  could  n't  see  the  sign  that  Nature  hung 
out  for  us.   No  doubt  we're  just  as  obtuse 


MYSTERY  RANCH  275 

about  a  lot  of  things  that  will  be  just  as 
simple  and  just  as  plain  when  their  meaning 
is  finally  driven  home." 

"But  Nature  has  n't  given  a  hint  about 
that  Dollar  Sign  road  crime.  Yet  it  took 
place  outdoors,  right  in  Nature's   haunts." 

"You  simply  mean  that  we  have  n't  been 
able  to  comprehend  Nature's  signals.'3 

"But  you've  been  over  the  ground  a 
dozen  times,  have  n't  you?" 

"Fifty  times  —  but  all  that  merely  proves 
what  I  contend.  If  I  go  over  that  ground 
one  hundred  times,  and  don't  find  anything, 
what  does  it  prove?  Merely  that  I  am 
ninety-nine  times  stupider  than  I  should  be. 
I  should  get  the  answer  the  first  time  over."^ 

Rogers  laughed. 

"I  prefer  the  most  comfortable  theory. 
I  've  settled  down  in  the  popular  belief  that 
Bill  Talpers  did  the  killing.  Think  how 
easy  that  makes  it  for  me  —  and  the  chances 
are  that  I'm  right  at  that." 

"You  are  hopeless,  Ed!  But  remem- 
ber, if  this  thing  'goes  unsolved  it  will  only 
be  because  we  have  n't  progressed  beyond 


276  MYSTERY  RANCH 

the  first-reader  stage  in  interpreting  what 
Mother  Nature  has  to  teach  us." 

For  several  days  following  the  acquittal 
of  Fire  Bear  and  McFann,  Lowell  had 
worked  almost  unceasingly  in  the  hope  of 
getting  new  evidence  in  the  case  which 
nearly  everybody  else  seemed  willing  to 
forget.  A  similar  persistency  had  marked 
Lowell's  career  as  a  newspaper  reporter.  He 
had  turned  up  several  sensations  when  rival 
newspaper  men  had  abandoned  certain  cases 
as  hopeless  so  far  as  new  thrills  were  con- 
cerned. 

Lowell  had  not  exaggerated  when  he  told 
Rogers  he  had  gone  over  the  scene  of  the 
murder  fifty  times.  He  had  not  gone  into 
details  with  his  clerk.  Rogers  would  have 
been  surprised  to  know  that  his  chief  had 
even  blocked  out  the  scene  of  the  murder  in 
squares  like  a  checkerboard.  Each  one  of 
these  squares  had  been  examined,  slowly 
and  painfully.  The  net  result  had  been  some 
loose  change  which  undoubtedly  had  been 
dropped  by  Talpers  in  robbing  the  murdered 
man;  an  eagle  feather,  probably  dropped 


MYSTERY  RANCH,  277 

from  a  coup  stick  which  some  one  of  Fire 
Bear's  followers  had  borrowed  from  an 
elder;  a  flint  arrowhead  of  great  antiquity, 
and  a  belt  buckle  and  some  moccasin  beads. 

Far  from  being  discouraged  at  the  unsuc- 
cessful outcome  of  his  checkerboarding  plan, 
Lowell  took  his  automobile,  on  the  morning 
following  his  talk  with  Rogers,  and  again 
visited  the  scene  of  the  crime. 

For  six  weeks  the  hill  had  been  bathed 
daily  in  sunshine.  The  drought,  which  the 
Indians  had  ascribed  to  evil  spirits  called 
down  by  Fire  Bear,  had  continued  unbro- 
ken. The  mud-holes  in  the  road,  through 
which  Lowell  had  plunged  to  the  scene  of 
the  murder  when  he  had  first  heard  of  the 
crime,  had  been  churned  to  dust.  Lowell 
noticed  that  an  old  buffalo  wallow  at  the 
side  of  the  road  was  still  caked  in  irregular 
formations  which  resembled  the  markings  of 
alligator  hide.  The  first  hot  winds  would 
cause  these  cakes  of  mud  to  disintegrate, 
but  the  weather  had  been  calm,  and^they 
had  remained  just  as  they  had  dried. 

As  he  glanced  about  him  at  the  peaceful 


278  MYSTERY  RANCH 

panorama,  it  occurred  to  the  agent  that  per- 
haps too  much  attention  had  been  centered 
upon  the  exact  spot  of  the  murder.  Yet,  it 
seemed  reasonable  enough  to  suppose,  no 
murderer  would  possibly  lie  in  wait  for  a 
victim  in  such  an  open  spot.  If  the  murder 
had  been  deliberately  planned,  as  Lowell 
believed,  and  if  the  victim's  approach  were 
known,  there  could  have  been  no  waiting 
here  on  the  part  of  the  murderer. 

Getting  into  his  automobile,  Lowell  drove 
carefully  up  the  hill,  studying  both  sides 
of  the  road  as  he  went.  Several  hundred 
yards  from  the  scene  of  the  murder,  he  found 
a  clump  of  giant  sagebrush  and  grease  wood, 
close  to  the  road.  Lowell  entered  the  clump 
and  found  that  from  its  eastern  side  he 
could  command  a  good  view  of  the  Dollar 
Sign  road  for  miles.  Here  a  man  and  horse 
might  remain  hidden  until  a  traveler,  com- 
ing up  the  hill,  was  almost  within  hailing 
distance.  The  brush  had  grown  in  a  circle, 
leaving  a  considerable  hollow  which  was 
devoid  of  vegetation.  Examining  this  hol- 
low closely,  Lowell  paused  suddenly  and  ut- 


MYSTERY  RANCH  279 

tered  a  low  ejaculation.  Then  he  walked 
slowly  to  his  automobile  and  drove  in  the 
direction  of  the  Greek  Letter  Ranch. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  ranch  house  Low- 
ell was  relieved  to  find  that  Helen  was  not  at 
home.  Wong,  who  opened  the  door  a  scant 
six  inches,  told  him  she  had  taken  the  white 
horse  and  gone  for  a  ride. 
!  "Well,  tell  Mister  Willis  Morgan  I  want 
to  see  him,"  said  Lowell. 

Wong  was  much  alarmed.  Mister  Mor- 
gan could  not  be  seen.  The  Chinese  com- 
bination of  words  for  "impossible"  was 
marshaled  in  behalf  of  Wong 's  employer. 

Lowell,  putting  his  shoulder  against  the 
Greek  letter  brand  which  was  burnt  in  the 
panel,  pushed  the  door  open  and  stepped 
into  the  room  which  served  as  a  library. 

"Now  tell  Mister  Morgan  I  wish  to  see 
him,  Wong,"  said  the  agent  firmly. 

The  door  to  the  adjoining  room  opened, 
and  Lowell  faced  the  questioning  gaze  of  a 
gray-haired  man  who  might  have  been  any- 
where from  forty-five  to  sixty.  One  hand 
was  in  the  pocket  of   a  velvet  smoking- 


280  MYSTERY  RANCH 

jacket,  and  the  other  held  a  pipe.  The  man's 
eyes  were  dark  and  deeply  set.  They  did 
not  seem  to  Lowell  to  be  the  contemplative 
eyes  of  the  scholar,  but  rather  to  belong  to 
a  man  of  decisive  action  —  one  whose  in- 
terests might  be  in  building  bridges  or  tun- 
nels, but  whose  activities  were  always  con- 
cerned with  material  things.  His  face  was 
lean  and  bronzed  —  the  face  of  a  man  who 
lived  much  in  the  outdoors.  His  nose  was 
aquiline,  and  his  lips,  though  thin  and  firm, 
were  not  unkindly.  In  fact,  here  was  a  man 
who,  in  the  class-room,  might  be  given  to 
quips  with  his  students,  rather  than  to 
sternness.  Yet  this  was  the  man  of  whom 
it  was  said  .  .  .  Lowell's  face  grew  stern  as 
the  long  list  of  indictments  against  Willis 
Morgan,  recluse  and  "squaw  professor,'5 
came  to  his  mind. 

The  gray-haired  man  sat  down  at  the 
table,  and  Lowell,  in  response  to  a  wave  of 
the  hand  that  held  the  pipe,  drew  up  op- 
posite. 

"You  and  I  have  been  living  pretty  close 
together  a  long  time,"  said  Lowell  bluntly, 


MYSTERY  RANCH  a8i 

"and  if  we'd  been  a  little  more  neighborly,  this 
call  might  not  be  so  difficult  in  some  ways." 

"My  fault  entirely."  Again  the  hand 
waved  —  this  time  toward  the  ceiling-high 
shelves  of  books.  "Library  slavery  makes  a 
man  selfish,  I'll  admit." 

The  voice  was  cold  and  hard.  It  was  such 
a  voice  that  had  extended  a  mocking  wel- 
come to  Helen  Ervin  when  she  had  stood 
hesitatingly  on  the;  threshold  of  the  Greek 
Letter  Ranch-house.  Lowell  sneered  openly. 

"You  have  n't  always  been  so  tied  up  to 
your  books  that  you  could  n't  get  out,"  he 
said.  "I  want  to  take  you  back  to  a  little 
horseback  ride  which  you  took  just  six  weeks 
ago." 

"I  don't  remember  such  a  trip." 

"You  will  remember  it,  as  I  particularize." 

"  Very  well.  You  are  beginning  to  interest 
me." 

"You  rode  from  here  to  the  top  of  the 
hill  on  the  Dollar  Sign  road.  Do  you  re- 
member?" 

"  What  odds  if  I  say  yes  or  no?  Go  on.  I 
want  to  hear  the  rest  of  this  story." 


282  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"When  you  reached  a  clump  of  tall  sage 
and  grease  wood,  not  far  below  the  crest  of 
the  hill,  you  entered  it  and  remained  hidden. 
You  had  a  considerable  time  to  wait,  but 
you  were  patient  —  very  patient.  You  knew 
the  man  you  wanted  to  meet  was  somewhere 
on  the  road  —  coming  toward  you.  From 
the  clump  of  bushes  you  commanded  a  view 
of  the  Dollar  Sign  road  for  miles.  As  I  say, 
it  was  long  and  tedious  waiting.  It  had 
rained  in  the  night.  The  sun  came  out, 
strong  and  warm,  and  the  atmosphere  was 
moist.  Your  horse,  that  old  white  horse 
which  has  been  on  the  ranch  so  many  years, 
was  impatiently  fighting  flies.  Though  you 
are  not  any  kinder  to  horseflesh  than  you 
are  to  human  beings  who  come  within  your 
blighting  influence,  you  took  the  saddle  off 
the  animal.  Perhaps  the  horse  had  caught 
his  foot  in  a  stirrup  as  he  kicked  at  a  buzz- 
ing  fly." 

The  keen,  strong  features  into  which 
Lowell  gazed  were  mask-like  in  their  im- 
passiveness. 

"Soon  you  saw  something  approaching 


MYSTERY  RANCH  283 

on  the  road  over  the  prairie,"  went  on  the 
agent.  "It  must  be  the  automobile  driven 
by  the  man  you  had  come  to  meet.  You 
saddled  quickly  and  rode  out  of  the  sage- 
brush. You  met  the  man  in  the  automobile 
as  he  was  climbing  the  hill.  He  stopped 
and  you  talked  with  him.  You  had  violent 
words,  and  then  you  shot  him  with  a  sawed- 
off  shotgun  which  you  had  carried  for  that 
purpose.  You  killed  the  man,  and  then,  to 
throw  suspicion  on  others,  conceived  the 
idea  of  staking  him  down  to  the  prairie.  It 
would  look  like  an  Indian  trick.  Besides, 
you  knew  that  there  had  been  some  trouble 
on  the  reservation  with  Indians  who  were 
dancing  and  generally  inclined  to  oppose 
Government  regulations.  You  had  found  a 
rope  which  had  been  dropped  on  the  road 
by  the  half-breed,  Jim  McFann.  You  took 
that  rope  from  your  saddle  and  cut  it  in 
four  pieces  and  tied  the  man's  hands  and 
wrists  to  his  own  tent-stakes,  which  you 
found  in  his  automobile. 

"  Your  plans  worked  out  well.   It  was  a 
lonely  country  and  comparatively  early  in 


284  MYSTERY  RANCH 

the  day.  There  was  nobody  to  disturb  you 
at  your  work.  Apparently  you  had  thought 
of  every  detail.  You  had  left  a  few  tracks, 
and  these  you  obliterated  carefully.  You 
knew  you  would  hardly  be  suspected  unless 
something  led  the  world  to  your  door.  You 
had  been  a  recluse  for  years,  hated  by  white 
men  and  feared  by  red.  Few  had  seen  your 
face.  You  could  retire  to  this  lonelv  ranch 
and  live  your  customary  life,  with  no  fear  of 
suffering  for  the  crime  you  had  committed. 
To  be  sure,  an  Indian  or  two  might  be 
hanged,  but  a  matter  like  that  would  rest 
lightly  on  your  conscience. 

"Apparently  your  plans  were  perfect,  but 
you  overlooked  one  small  thing.  Most 
clever  scoundrels  do.  You  did  not  think 
that  perhaps  Nature  might  lay  a  trap  to 
catch  you  —  a  trap  in  the  brush  where  you 
had  been  hidden.  Your  horse  rolled  in  the 
mud  to  rid  himself  of  the  pest  of  flies.  You 
were  so  intent  on  the  approach  of  your  vic- 
tim that  you  did  not  notice  the  animal.  Yet 
there  in  the  mud,  and  visible  to-day,  was 
made  the  imprint  of  your  horse's  shoulder, 


MYSTERY  RANCH  285 

bearing  the  impression  of  the  Greek  Letter 
brand! " 

As  Lowell  finished,  he  rose  slowly,  his 
hands  on  the  table  and  his  gaze  on  the  un- 
flinching face  in  front  of  him.  The  gray- 
haired  man  rose  also. 

"I  suppose,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  from 
which  all  trace  of  harshness  had  disappeared, 
1 'you  have  come  to  give  me  over  to  the 
authorities  on  account  of  this  crime.'' 

"Yes." 

"Very  well.  I  committed  the  murder, 
much  as  you  have  explained  it,  but  I  did 
not  ride  the  white  horse  to  the  hill.  Nor  am 
I  Willis  Morgan.  I  am  Edward  Sargent. 
Morgan  was  the  man  whom  I  killed  and 
staked  down  on  the  prairie!" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Helen  Ervin  rode  past  the  ranch  door 
just  as  the  gray-haired  man  made  his  state- 
ment to  Lowell. 

"You  are  Edward  Sargent,  the  man  who 
was  supposed  to  have  been  murdered?"  re- 
peated the  Indian  agent,  in  astonishment. 

"Yes;  but  wait  till  Miss  Ervin  comes  in. 
The  situation  may  require  a  little  clearing, 
and  she  can  help." 

Surprise  and  anxiety  alternated  in  Helen's 
face  as  she  looked  in  through  the  open  door- 
way and  saw  the  men  seated  at  the  table. 
She  paused  a  moment,  silhouetted  in  the 
door,  the  Greek  letter  on  the  panel  standing 
out  with  almost  startling  distinctness  beside 
her.  As  she  stood  poised  on  the  threshold  in 
her  riding-suit,  the  ravages  of  her  previous 
trip  having  been  repaired,  she  made  Lowell 
think  of  a  modernized  Diana  —  modernized 
as  to  clothes,  but  carrying,  in  her  straight- 
limbed  grace,  all  the  world-old  spell  of  the 
outdoors. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  287 

"Our  young  friend  has  just  learned  the 
truth,  my  dear,"  said  the  gray-haired  man. 
"He  knows  that  I  am  Sargent,  and  that 
j^our  stepfather,  Willis  Morgan,  is  dead." 

Helen  stepped  quickly  to  Sargent's  side. 
There  was  something  suggesting  filial  pro- 
tection in  her  attitude.  Sargent  smiled  up 
at  her,  reassuringly. 

"Probably  it  is  better,"  he  said,  "that 
the  whole  thing  should  be  known. ': 

'But  in  a  few  days  we  should  have  been 
gone,"  said  Helen.  "Why  have  all  our 
hopes  been  destroyed  in  this  way  at  the  last 
moment?  Is  this  some  of  your  work,'5  she 
added  bitterly,  addressing  Lowell  —  "some 
of  your  work  as  a  spy?" 

Sargent  spoke  up  quickly. 

"It  was  fate,"  he  said.  "I  have  felt  from 
the  first  that  I  should  not  have  attempted 
to  escape  punishment  for  my  deed.  The 
young  man  has  simply  done  his  duty.  He 
worked  with  the  sole  idea  of  getting  at 
the  truth  —  and  it  is  always  the  truth  that 
matters  most.  What  difference  can  it  make 
who  is  hurt,  so  long  as  the  truth  is  known?' 


a88  MYSTERY  RANCH 

"But  how  did  it  become  known/3  asked 
Helen,  "when  everything  seemed  to  be  so 
thoroughly  in  our  favor?  The  innocent  men 
who  were  suspected  had  been  released.  The 
public  was  content  to  let  the  crime  rest  at 
the  door  of  Talpers  —  a  man  capable  of  any 
evil  deed.  What  has  happened  to  change 
matters  so  suddenly?" 

"It  was  the  old  white  horse  that  betrayed 
us,"  said  Sargent,  with  a  grim  smile.  "It 
shows  on  what  small  threads  our  fates 
hang  balanced.  The  Greek  letter  brand  still 
shows  in  the  mud  where  the  horse  rolled  on 
the  day  of  the  murder  on  the  Dollar  Sign 
hill.  When  our  young  friend  here  saw  that 
bit  of  evidence,  he  came  directly  to  the 
ranch  and  accused  me  of  knowledge  of  the 
crime,  all  the  time  thinking  I  was  Willis 
Morgan." 

"Let  me  continue  my  work  as  a  spy,'5 
broke  in  Lowell  bitterly,  "and  ask  for  a 
complete  statement." 

"Willis  Morgan  was  my  twin  brother,'5 
said  Sargent.  "As  Willard  Sargent  he  had 
made    a   distinguished    name    for    himself 


MYSTERY  RANCH  289 

among  the  teachers  of  Greek  in  this  country. 
He  was  a  professor  at  an 'early  age,  his  bent 
toward  scholarship  being  opposite  to  mine, 
which  was  along  the  lines  of  invention.  My 
brother  was  a  hard,  cruel  man,  beneath  a 
polished  exterior.  Cynicism  was  as  natural 
to  him  as  breathing.  He  married  a  young 
and  beautiful  woman,  who  had  been  married 
before,  and  who  had  a  little  daughter  — 
a  mere  baby,  Willard's  wife  soon  died,  a 
victim  of  his  cynicism  and  studied  cruelty. 
The  future  of  this  helpless  stepdaughter  of 
my  brother's  became  a  matter  of  the  most 
intimate  concern  to  me.  My  brother  was 
mercenary  to  a  marked  degree.  I  had  be- 
come successful  in  my  inventions  of  mining 
machinery.  I  was  fast  making  a  fortune. 
Willard  called  upon  me  frequently  for  loans, 
which  I  never  refused.  In  fact,  I  had  volun- 
tarily advanced  him  thousands  of  dollars, 
from  which  I  expected  no  return.  A  mere 
brotherly  feeling  of  gratitude  would  have 
been  sufficient  repayment  for  me.  But  such 
a  feeling  my  brother  never  had.  His  only 
object  was  to  get  as  much  out  of  me  as  he 


29o  MYSTERY  RANCH 

could,  and  to  sneer  at  me,  in  his  high-bred 
way,  while  making  a  victim  of  me. 

"His  success  in  getting  money  from  me 
led  him  into  deep  waters.  He  victimized 
others,  who  threatened  prosecution.  Real- 
izing that  matters  could  not  go  on  as  they 
were  going,  I  told  my  brother  that  I  would 
take  up  the  claims  against  him  and  give  him 
one  hundred  thousand  dollars,  on  certain 
conditions.  Those  conditions  were  that  he 
was  to  renounce  all  claim  to  his  little  step- 
daughter, and  that  I  was  to  have  sole  care 
of  her.  He  was  to  go  to  some  distant  part 
of  the  country  and  change  his  name  and 
let  the  world  forget  that  such  a  creature  as 
Willard  Sargent  ever  existed. 

"My  brother  was  forced  to  agree  to  the 
terms  laid  down.  The  university  trustees 
were  threatening  him  with  expulsion.  He 
resigned  and  came  out  here.  He  married 
an  Indian  woman,  and,  as  I  understand  it, 
killed  her  by  the  same  cold-hearted,  de- 
liberately cruel  treatment  that  had  brought 
about  the  death  of  his  first  wife. 

'Meantime  Willard's  stepdaughter,  who 


MYSTERY  RANCH  291 

was  none  other  than  Helen,  was  brought  up 
by  a  lifelong  friend  of  mine,  Miss  Scovill, 
at  her  school  for  girls  in  California.  The 
loving  care  that  she  was  given  can  best  be 
told  by  Helen.  I  did  not  wish  the  girl  to 
know  that  she  was  dependent  upon  her 
uncle  for  support.  In  fact,  I  did  not  want 
her  to  learn  anything  which  might  lead  to 
inquiries  into  her  babyhood,  and  which 
would  only  bring  her  sorrow  when  she 
learned  of  her  mother's  fate.  My  brother, 
always  clever  in  his  rascalities,  learned  that 
Helen  knew  nothing  of  my  existence.  He 
sent  her  a  letter,  when  Miss  Scovill  was 
away,  telling  Helen  that  he  had  been  crip- 
pling himself  financially  to  keep  her  in 
school,  and  now  he  needed  her  at  this  ranch. 
Before  Miss  Scovill  had  returned,  Helen, 
acting  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  had 
departed  for  my  brother's  place.  Miss 
Scovill  was  greatly  alarmed,  and  sent  me 
a  telegram.  As  soon  as  I  received  word,  I 
started  for  my  brother's  ranch.  I  happened 
to  have  started  on  an  automobile  tour  at  the 
time,  and  figured  that  I  could  reach  here  as 


292  MYSTERY  RANCH 

quickly  by  machine  as  by  making  frequent 
changes  from  rail  to  stage. 

"When  Helen  arrived  at  the  ranch,  it  can 
be  imagined  how  the  success  of  his  scheme 
delighted  Willis  Morgan,  as  my  brother  was 
known  here.  He  threatened  her  with  the 
direst  of  evils,  and  declared  he  would  drag 
her  beneath  the  level  of  the  poorest  squaw 
on  the  Indian  reservation.  Fortunately  she 
is  a  girl  of  spirit  and  determination.  The 
Chinese  servant  was  willing  to  help  her  to 
escape.  She  would  have  fled  at  the  first  op- 
portunity, in  spite  of  my  brother's  declara- 
tion that  escape  would  be  impossible,  but 
it  happened  that,  during  the  course  of  his 
boasting,  her  captor  overstepped  himself. 
He  told  her  of  my  existence,  and  that  I  had 
really  been  the  one  who  had  kept  her  in 
school.  He  had  managed  to  keep  a  thorough 
system  of  espionage  in  effect,  so  far  as  Miss 
Scovill  and  myself  were  concerned.  He  had 
known  when  she  left  San  Francisco,  and  he 
also  knew  that  I  was  coming,  by  automobile, 
to  take  Helen  from  the  ranch.  He  laughed 
as  he  told  her  of  my  coming.   All  the  ferocity 


/ 


MYSTERY  RANCH  293 

of  his  nature  blazed  forth,  and  he  told  Helen 
that  he  intended  to  kill  me  at  sight,  and 
would  also  kill  her. 

"Desirous  of  warning  me,  even  at  risk  of 
her  own  life,  Helen  mailed  a  letter  to  me  at 
Quaking-Asp  Grove,  hoping  to  catch  me  be- 
fore I  reached  that  place.  In  this  letter  she 
warned  me  not  to  come  to  the  ranch,  as  she 
felt  that  tragedy  impended.  Talpers  held  up 
the  letter  and  read  it,  and  thought  to  hold  it 
as  a  club  over  Helen's  head,  showing  that 
she  knew  something  of  the  murder. 

"I  rode  through  Quaking- Asp  Grove  and 
White  Lodge  and  the  Indian  agency  at 
night.  I  had  a  breakdown  after  going  past 
Talpers 's  store  —  a  tire  to  replace.  By  the 
time  I  climbed  the  hill  on  the  Dollar  Sign 
road  it  was  well  along  in  the  morning.  I  saw 
a  man  coming  toward  me  on  a  white  horse. 
It  was  my  brother,  Willard  Sargent,  or  Wil- 
lis Morgan.  He  looked  much  like  me.  The 
years  seemed  to  have  dealt  with  us  about 
alike.  I  knew,  as  soon  as  I  saw  him,  that 
he  had  come  out  to  kill  me.  We  talked  a 
few  minutes.   I  had  stopped  the  car  at  his 


294  MYSTERY  RANCH 

demand,  and  he  sat  in  the  saddle,  close  be- 
side me.  There  is  no  need  of  going  into  the 
details  of  our  conversation.  He  was  full  of 
reproaches.  His  later  life  had  been  more  of 
a  punishment  for  him  than  I  had  suspected. 
His  voice  was  full  of  venom  as  he  threatened 
me.  He  told  me  that  Helen  was  at  the 
ranch,  but  I  would  never  see  her.  He  had  a 
sawed-off  shotgun  in  his  hand.  I  had  no 
weapon.  I  made  a  quick  leap  at  him  and 
threw  him  from  his  horse.  The  shotgun 
fell  in  the  road.  I  jumped  for  it  just  as  he 
scrambled  after  it.  I  wrested  the  weapon 
from  him.  He  tried  to  draw  a  revolver  that 
swung  in  a  holster  at  his  hip.  There  was  no 
Ghance  for  me  to  take  that  from  him.  It  was 
a  case  of  his  life  or  mine.  I  fired  the  shot- 
gun, and  the  charge  tore  away  the  lower  part 
of  his  face. 

"Strangely  enough,  I  had  no  regret  at 
what  I  had  done.  It  was  not  that  I  had 
saved  my  own  life  —  I  had  managed  to 
intervene  between  Helen  and  a  fate  worse 
than  death.  I  weighed  matters  and  acted 
with  a  coolness  that  surprised  me,  even 


MYSTERY  RANCH  295 

while  I  was  carrying  out  the  details  that 
followed.  It  occurred  to  me  that,  because 
of  our  close  resemblance  to  each  other,  it 
might  be  possible  for  me  to  pass  myself  off 
as  my  brother.  I  knew  that  he  had  lived 
the  life  of  a  recluse  here,  and  that  few  people 
knew  him  by  sight.  We  were  dressed  much 
alike,  as  I  was  traveling  in  khaki,  and  he 
wore  clothes  of  that  material.  I  removed 
everything  from  his  pockets,  and  then  I  put 
my  watch  and  check-book  and  other  papers 
in  his  pockets.  I  even  went  so  far  as  to  put 
my  wallet  in  his  inner  pocket,  containing 
bills  of  large  denomination. 

"I  had  heard  that  there  was  some  dis- 
satisfaction among  certain  young  Indians 
on  the  reservation  —  that  those  Indians 
were  dancing  and  making  trouble  in  general. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  such  a  situation  might 
be  made  use  of  in  some  way.  Why  not  drag 
my  brother's  body  out  on  the  prairie  at  the 
side  of  the  road  and  stake  it  down?  Sus- 
picion might  be  thrown  on  the  Indians.  I 
had  no  sooner  thought  of  the  plan  than  I 
proceeded  to  carry  it  out.  I  worked  calmly 


296  MYSTERY  RANCH 

and  quickly.  There  was  no  living  thing  in 
sight  to  cause  alarm.  I  took  a  rawhide 
lariat,  which  I  found  attached  to  the  sad- 
dle on  the  old  white  horse,  and  used  it  to 
tie  my  brother's  ankles  and  wrists  to  tent- 
stakes  which  I  took  from  my  automobile. 

"After  my  work  was  done,  I  looked  it  over 
carefully,  to  see  that  I  had  left  nothing  un- 
done and  had  made  no  blunder  in  what  I 
had  accomplished.  I  obliterated  all  tracks, 
as  far  as  possible.  Although  it  had  rained 
the  night  before,  and  there  was  mud  in  the 
old  buffalo  wallows  and  in  the  depressions 
in  the  road,  the  prairie  where  I  had  staked 
the  body  was  dry  and  dusty. 

"After  I  had  arranged  everything  to  my 
satisfaction,  I  mounted  the  old  white  horse 
and  rode  to  the  ranch,  merely  following  the 
trail  the  horse  had  made  coming  out.  When 
I  arrived  here  and  made  myself  known  to 
Helen,  you  can  imagine  her  joy,  which  soon 
was  changed  to  consternation  when  she 
found  what  had  been  done.  But  my  plan  of 
living  here  and  letting  the  world  suppose 
that  I  was  Willard  Sargent,  or  Willis  Mor- 


MYSTERY  RANCH  297 

gan,  seemed  feasible.  Wong]  was  our  friend 
from  the  first.  We  knew  we  could  depend 
on  his  Oriental  discretion.  But  we  were  not 
to  escape  lightly.  Talpers's  attitude  was  a 
menace  until,  through  a  fortunate  set  of 
circumstances,  we  managed  to  secure  a  com- 
pensating hold  over  him.  Undoubtedly  Tal- 
pers  had  been  first  on  the  scene  after  the 
murder.  He  had  robbed  my  brother's  body, 
and  was  caught  in  his  ghoul-like  act  by  his 
partner,  Jim  McFann.  The  half-breed  be- 
lieved Talpers  when  the  trader  told  him  that 
a  watch  was  all  he  had  found  on  the  dead 
man.  The  later  discovery  that  Talpers  had 
deceived  him,  and  had  really  taken  a  large 
sum  of  money  from  the  body,  led  the  half- 
breed  to  kill  the  trader. 

"I  decided  to  await  the  outcome  of  the 
trial.  It  would  have  been  impossible  for  me 
to  let  Fire  Bear  or  McFann  go  to  prison, 
or  perhaps  to  the  gallows,  for  my  deed.  If 
either  one,  or  both,  had  been  convicted,  I 
intended  to  make  a  confession.  But  matters 
seemed  to  work  out  well  for  us.  The  accused 
men  were  freed,  and  it  seemed  to  be  the 


298  MYSTERY  RANCH 

general  opinion  that  Talpers  had  committed 
the  crime.  Talpers  was  dead.  There  was 
no  occasion  for  me  to  confess.  I  had 
thoughts  of  going  away,  quietly,  to  some 
place  where  I  could  begin  life  over  again. 
Miss  Scovill  is  in  possession  of  a  will  making 
Helen  my  heir.  This  will  could  have  been 
produced,  and  thus  Helen  would  have  been 
well  provided  for,  I  had  kept  in  seclusion 
here,  and  had  even  feigned  illness,  in  order 
that  none  might  suspect  me  of  being  other 
than  Willis  Morgan.  But  if  any  one  had 
seen  me  I  do  not  believe  the  deception  would 
have  been  discovered,  so  close  is  my  re- 
semblance to  my  brother.  Always  having 
been  a  passable  mimic,  I  imitated  my 
brother's  voice.  It  was  a  voice  that  had 
often  stirred  me  to  wrath,  because  of  its 
cold,  cutting  qualities.  The  first  time  I 
imitated  my  brother's  voice,  Wong  came  in 
from  the  kitchen  looking  frightened  beyond 
measure.  He  thought  the  ghost  of  his  old 
employer  had  returned  to  the  ranch. 

"But  of  what  use  is  all  such  planning 
when  destiny  wills  otherwise?   A  trifling  in- 


MYSTERY  RANCH  299 

cident  —  the  rolling  of  a  horse  in  the  mud  — 
brought  everything  about  my  ears.  Yet  I 
believe  it  is  for  the  best.  Nor  do  I  believe 
your  discovery  to  have  been  a  mere  matter 
of  chance.  Probably  you  were  led  by  a 
higher  force  than  mere  devotion  to  duty. 
Truth  must  have  loyal  servitors  such  as  you 
if  justice  is  to  survive  in  this  world.  I  am 
heartily  glad  that  you  persisted  in  your 
search.  I  feel  more  at  ease  in  mind  and 
body  to-night  than  I  have  felt  since  the  day 
of  the  tragedy.  Now  if  you  will  excuse  me 
a  moment,  I  will  make  preparations  for 
giving  myself  up  to  the  authorities  —  per- 
haps to  higher  authorities  than  those  at 
White  Lodge." 

Sargent  stepped  into  the  adjoining  room 
as  he  finished  talking.  Helen  did  not  raise 
her  head  from  the  table.  Something  in  Sar- 
gent's final  words  roused  Lowell's  suspicion. 
He  walked  quickly  into  the  room  and  found 
Sargent  taking  a  revolver  from  the  drawer 
of  a  desk.  Lowell  wrested  the  weapon  from 
his  grasp. 

"That's  the  last  thing  in  the  world  you 


3oo  MYSTERY  RANCH 

• 

should  do,"  said  the  Indian  agent,  in  a  low 
voice.  "There  is  n't  a  jury  that  will  convict 
you.  If  it 's  expiation  you  seek,  do  you  think 
that  cowardly  sort  of  expiation  is  going  to 
bring  anything  but  new  unhappiness  to  Iter 
out  there?" 

"No,"  said  Sargent.  "I  give  you  my 
word  this  will  not  be  attempted  again." 

Space  meeting  space  —  plains  and  sky 
welded  into  harmonies  of  blue  and  gray. 
Cloud  shadows  racing  across  billowy  up- 
lands, and  sagebrush  nodding  in  a  breeze 
crisp  and  electric  as  only  a  breeze  from  our 
upper  Western  plateau  can  be.  Distant 
mountains,  with  their  allurements  enhanced 
by  the  filmiest  of  purple  veils.  Bird  song 
and  the  chattering  of  prairie  dogs  from  the 
foreground  merely  intensifying  the  great, 
echoless  silence  of  the  plains. 

Lowell  and  Helen  from  a  ridge  —  their 
ridge  it  was  now !  —  watched  the  changes  of 
the  panorama.  They  had  dismounted,  and 
their  horses  were  standing  near  at  hand, 
reins  trailing,  and  manes  rising  and  falling 


MYSTERY  RANCH  301 

with  the  undulations  of  the  breeze.  It  was 
a  month  after  Sargent's  confession  and  his 
surrender  as  the  slayer  of  the  recluse  of 
the  Greek  Letter  Ranch.  As  Lowell  had 
prophesied,  Sargent's  acquittal  had  been 
prompt.  His  story  was  corroborated  by 
brief  testimony  from  Lowell  and  Helen. 
Citizens  crowded  about  him,  after  the  jury 
had  brought  in  its  verdict  of  "Not  guilty," 
and  one  of  the  first  to  congratulate  him  was 
Jim  McFann,  who  had  been  acquitted  when 
he  came  up  for  trial  for  slaying  Talpers. 
The  half-breed  told  Sargent  of  Talpers's 
plan  to  kill  Helen. 

"I'm  just  telling  you,'3    said  the  half- 
breed,  "to  ease  your  mind  in  case  you're 
feeling    any    responsibility    for    Talpers's 
death." 

Soon  after  his  acquittal  Sargent  departed 
for  California,  where  he  married  Miss  Sco- 
vill  —  the  outcome  of  an  early  romance. 
Helen  was  soon  to  leave  to  join  her  foster 
parents,  and  she  and  Lowell  had  come  for  a 
last  ride. 

"I  cannot  realize  the  glorious  truth  of  it 


3o2  MYSTERY  RANCH 

all  —  that  I  am.  to  come  soon  and  claim  you 
and  bring  you  back  here  as  my  wife/"  said 
Lowell.   "Say  it  all  over  again  for  me." 

He  was  standing  with  both  arms  about 
her  and  with  her  face  uptilted  to  his.  No 
doubt  other  men  and  women  had  stood  thus 
on  this  glacier-wrought  promontory  —  lov- 
ers from  cave  and  tepee. 

"It  is  all  true/'  Helen  answered,  "but  I 
must  admit  that  the  responsibilities  of  being 
an  Indian  agent's  wife  seem  alarming.  The 
thought  of  there  being  so  much  to  do  among 
these  people  makes  me  afraid  that  I  shall 
not  be  able  to  meet  the  responsibilities.'' 

"You'll  be  bothered  every  day  with  In- 
dians —  men,  women,  and  babies.  You  '11 
hear  the  thumping  of  their  moccasined  feet 
every  hour  of  the  day.  They'll  overrun 
your  front  porch  and  seek  you  out  in  the 
sacred  precincts  of  your  kitchen,  mostly 
about  things  that  are  totally  inconse- 
quential." 

"But  think  of  the  work  in  its  larger 
aspects — the  good  that  there  is  to  be  done.'2 

Lowell  smiled  at  her  approvingly. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  303 

"That's  the  way  you  have  to  keep  think- 
ing all  the  time.  You  have  to  look  beyond 
the  mass  of  detail  in  the  foreground  —  past 
all  the  minor  annoyances  and  the  red  tape 
and  the  seeming  ingratitude.  You've  got  to 
figure  that  you  're  there  to  supply  the  needed 
human  note  — ■  to  let  these  people  under- 
stand that  this  Government  of  ours  is  not 
a  mere  machine  with  the  motive  power  at 
Washington.  You  've  got  to  feel  that  you've 
been  sent  here  to  make  up  for  the  indiffer- 
ence of  the  outside  world  —  that  the  kiddies 
out  in  those  ramshackle  cabins  and  cold  te- 
pees are  not  going  to  be  lonely,  and  suffer 
and  die,  if  you  can  help  it.  You've  got  to 
feel  that  it's  your  help  that's  going  to  save 
the  feeble  and  sick  —  sometimes  from  their 
own  superstitions.  There's  no  reason  why 
we  can't  in  time  get  a  hospital  here  for 
Indians,  like  Fire  Bear,  who  have  tubercu- 
losis. We're  going  to  save  Fire  Bear,  and 
we  can  save  others.  And  then  there  are  the 
school-children,  with  lonely  hours  that  can 
be  lightened,  and  with  work  to  be  found 
for  them  in  the  big  world  after  they  have 


304  MYSTERY  RANCH 

learned  the  white  man's  tasks.  But  there 
are  going  to  be  heartaches  and  disillusion- 
ments  for  a  woman.  A  man  can  grit  his 
teeth  and  smash  through  some  way,  unless 
he  sinks  back  into  absolute  indifference 
as  a  good  many  Indian  agents  do.  But  a 
woman  —  well,  dear,  I  dread  to  think  of 
your  embarking  on  a  task  which  is  at  once 
so  alluring  and  so  endless  and  thankless." 

Helen  put  her  hand  on  his  lips. 

"With  you  helping  me,  no  task  can  seem 
thankless." 

"Well,  then,  this  is  our  kingdom  of  work," 
said  Lowell,  with  a  sweep  of  his  sombrero 
which  included  the  vast  reservation  which 
smiled  so  inscrutably  at  them.  "There's 
every  human  need  to  be  met  out  there  in 
all  that  bigness.  We'll  face  it  together  — 
and  we'll  win!" 

They  rode  back  leisurely  along  the  ridge 
and  took  the  trail  that  led  to  the  ranch.  The 
house  was  closed,  as  Wong  was  at  the  agency, 
ready  to  leave  for  the  Sargents'  place  in 
California.  The  old  white  horse,  which  Helen 
rode,  tried  to  turn  in  at  the  ranch  gate. 


MYSTERY  RANCH  305 

"The  poor  old  fellow  does  n't  understand 
that  his  new  home  is  at  the  agency,"  said 
Helen.  "He  is  the  only  one  that  wants  to 
return  to  this  place  of  horrors." 

"The  leasers  will  be  here  soon,"  replied 
Lowell.  "They  are  going  to  put  up  build- 
ings and  make  a  new  place  all  told.  The 
Greek  letter  on  the  door  will  be  gone,  but, 
no  matter  what  changes  are  made,  I  have 
no  doubt  that  people  will  continue  to  know 
it  as  Mystery  Ranch." 


THE  END 


CAMBRIDGE  •  MASSACHUSETTS 
V   ■    S    •    A 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN     INITIAL     FINE    OF    25     CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  50  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.00  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


FE3  17   1933 
JUN    6    1933 

fcUG    3  1933 
MAR    17  1934 

JUN  22  1934 


MAR  17  1935 


KM 


MAY  221935 


Jl.'N    4    1935 


,936 


MAR  31  ^ 


DfC  28  !939 


oo 


Mn-5S0W 


L1 


MAY  lo  1966  7  6 
I    -667  2«  CIS 


LD  21-5C 


jr 


m  32357 


453ie>&> 


9<ol 

*  cqo> 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


